Fade to Black
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Multi-chapter fic. While in the shower one day, Emily notices a lump on the underside of her breast and immediately fears for the worst - fears for her health and the welfare of her family. Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Romance/Family. COMPLETE.
1. Unravel

**Author's Note: While in the shower one day, Emily notices a lump on the underside of her breast. Please mind the genre and rating - this story will be trying, and its themes even more so. Also, the beginning is kind of steamy; you've been warned. As always, thank you so much for reading! Feedback would be much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

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><p>Emily could feel it rising, just as astutely as she could feel the warm water cascading down her back, setting fire to millions of nerve endings in the process, just as astutely as she could feel his hands on her hips, on her breasts, in her hair…<em>everywhere.<em> The pressure within her kept building, and still he kept coaxing, until…until…

"_Oh, God!"_

With a growl of delight rumbling deep in his throat, Hotch covered her lips with his and swallowed her cry of pleasure with a bruising kiss. Peaking mere seconds later, he held her limp body tightly and moved so that they were standing directly underneath the spray of the shower. Coming off their highs together, he kissed her slowly, sensuously.

"I don't want to go," Hotch eventually murmured.

Emily breathed a chuckle against his cheek. "I don't want you to go, either. But you have a case, and the team needs you, Aaron."

"Mmm…yeah, but I need _you_, Emmy," he practically whined, dropping his lips to his wife's collarbone.

"And you've got me," she assured. "For the rest of the night."

"Thank God for that." Hotch was backing her up against the cold tile of the shower wall for the third time when Emily unhooked her leg from his hip. Bereft, he sought her gaze, a question dancing in his eyes.

She smirked slightly. "I love you, but in case you forgot, I was kind of in the middle of something when you joined me –"

"– and consequently rocked your world," he interrupted with a salacious grin.

Emily leaned forward and met his lips for another kiss. "You sure did, Mister. But now you've gone and gotten me all dirty again," she chastised with a teasing smile. "So, go. Get out of here and let me take an actual shower, Aaron."

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead, she opened the fogged up glass door and playfully shoved him out, admiring his naked ass on his way out.

Obeying orders, he left her to herself. Emily couldn't help but laugh, however, as she heard him murmur, "But when I get my hands on you later…"

She shook her head, regardless of the fact that he couldn't see her. _What a man_. An unexpected warmth spread through her body as her mind replayed, on an endless loop, his previous words. Closing her eyes, Emily took the bar of soap in her hands and began to create a lather. Then, running her hands over her body at a leisurely pace, she let her mind wander as she gazed at the trail of iridescent bubbles her fingers were leaving behind.

With her senses heightened and water caressing her face, Emily could almost taste him on her tongue, smell his musky cologne, feel his skin melding with hers…

Eyes still closed, she felt her heart pounding against her chest like a pair of hummingbird's wings. Her breathing became shallow, her cheeks flushed as she deftly massaged her breasts.

_God, after nearly eight years of marriage, he_ _still_ _has the ability to burn my insides with just one glance. _She licked her lips slowly. _He _is_ right outside…all I have to do is call out and he'll come running…_

Emily was seriously contemplating the idea when her thumb and forefinger slipped an inch along the underside of her left breast and her eyes flew open.

No.

_No._

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, this time for an entirely different reason.

_It can't be._

But it was. There, barely pronounced against the regularly smooth skin of her breast, was a slight irregularity that hadn't been there before.

A lump.

~.~.~

The sparsely lit bedroom was silent save for three sounds; the rustling of sheets, the quiet squelch of two bodies moving as one, and Hotch's rhythmic panting as he thrust into Emily slowly. This time, his actions were gentler, less desperate but more passionate.

Seemingly unaware that he was getting no reaction from Emily, he propped his chin up on her shoulder as he spooned behind her and continued. Not one word slipped past her lips, not one sigh. Emily simply stared straight ahead as Hotch whispered sweet nothings in her ear, her mind racing.

_A lump._

_What did it all mean?_

It was minutes later, when he wrapped his arms around her and cupped her breasts in his huge palms, that she stiffened in his embrace and shut her eyes tightly.

He noticed.

Halting immediately, he maneuvered so that he could rest his forehead against hers. "Hey," he murmured. "What's wrong?"

Emily answered just a beat too late. "Oh, uh…I'm fine," she said, shaking her head. "I guess my mind was somewhere else."

Hotch idly toyed with a lock of her hair, his gaze all the while on hers. "You want to stop?"

She shrugged and turned away slightly. "We don't have to," she muttered.

He frowned, worry lines creasing his forehead. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, running his thumb lightly over her jaw-line. "You look kind of pale, Em."

_A lump is nothing definitive, Emily,_ she told herself. _It could just be benign. It could just be a cyst._

"Emily?"

_But…but it could be…_

Emily's stomach lurched violently. "I need a glass of water," she choked out, before moving off the bed, throwing on a robe, and stumbling out of the room.

Without hesitation, Hotch pulled on his boxers and followed her path to the kitchen, where he found her leaning over the sink and emptying out her stomach contents. Wordlessly, he reached forward to hold her hair back, his hands trembling slightly. "Honey…"

"I'm okay," she managed after several steadying breaths. "Probably just ate something bad, or caught a stomach bug, or…or something," she rambled. Gladly taking the ice cold glass of water Hotch was holding out to her, she downed it quickly.

Still, Hotch didn't utter a word. Feeling his unrelenting gaze on her, Emily looked up from the empty etched glass to see concern visibly swimming in his eyes. "What?"

He spoke slowly. "Do you want me to call Morgan and tell him I'm sitting this one out?"

_Yes. Stay with me, please._ "Aaron, I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"I know, but I don't like leaving you alone when you're sick," he sighed. "Hell, I don't like leaving you alone, period. I just –"

From its perch on the dining table, his cell phone rang.

Emily managed a small smile. "That's probably JJ."

"What I'm trying to say is, I don't have to go," he persisted.

"Yes, Aaron, you do. You're just doing your job. I get that, I really do. I used to work for the BAU, too, you know," she quipped.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You'll be okay?"

_I hope I will._ She nodded. "I'd answer your phone before JJ gets worried."

Emily had, of course, been correct in her assumption. Glancing at the caller ID, Hotch brought the phone to his ear almost reluctantly. "JJ?"

"Hotch, sorry if I woke you, but it looks like New York needs us sooner than I thought," the Media Liaison reported with a tinge of sadness.

Despite the fact that she couldn't see him, Hotch nodded. "I'll be there as soon as possible."

"Alright. Give Emily and the kids my best."

"I will."

~.~.~

They stood by the half open door, the cool night air drifting into the house slowly. Emily hugged her robe tighter around her body. "You already said goodbye to Jack and Avery?" He nodded. "You have your go-bag…briefcase…cell phone…"

"Everything," Hotch assured. He straightened his tie. "You'll call me?"

"Of course." Her lips quirked upwards slightly.

"If…if you need anything, if something happens, or if you just want me to come home…I'll come home." He cupped her cheek tenderly. "All you have to do is say the word."

Her voice was husky with unshed tears when she finally spoke. "I know."

"Okay." His other hand moving into her hair, he brought her in for a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered, burying her face into the crook of his neck. After a long moment in his arms, she reluctantly pulled away. "Bye. Be safe."

"You, too. Bye, honey."

And as he walked away to his car, Emily closed the door behind him, dropped her body against the hard oak surface, sank to the floor and cried.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you sincerely for taking the time to read. If you have the time, please leave a review or two - they are the best motivation and inspiration for me, and I treasure them like the finest gold. Stay tuned for the next chapter!<strong>


	2. Exposed

**Author's Note: Unwillingly, Emily breaks the news to Hotch. Thank you once again for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Quietly, so as not to wake the two children a couple doors down, Emily made her way to her makeshift office and flipped open her laptop. Taking a seat in her expensive leather rolling chair, she opened Internet Explorer to her default search engine.<p>

As if in a trance, Emily's fingers ghosted over the keyboard. She didn't register what she was typing until she pressed Enter and Google pulled up the ten most visited results.

_Lump in breast – cyst or cancer?_

Emily's breathing became shallow as she read the webpage titles. _Overview of breast lumps: what you need to know. Do cysts lead to cancer? Understanding breast changes_ _– National Cancer Institute. Breast cyst aspiration. Fibrocystic breast disease. Can benign cysts become cancerous?_ Her finger hovered over the mouse unsurely. Finally, after a long shaky breath, she clicked on the last link, one that read, _Breast lumps: types of lumps and what they mean. _

Key phrases jumped out at her, making the faint taste of bile rise in her throat.

_Fibrocystic changes._

_Breast infection._

_Fat necrosis._

_Phyllodes tumor._

_Intraductal papilloma._

And then, the last entry on the page…

_Breast cancer._

Her eyes fell closed. It was just too much to process all at once, too much to fathom, too much to absorb. Shutting the laptop brashly, she stared, for a long minute, at her spotless desk and the shadow she was casting on its polished wood .

_Is that what I'm going to become? A shadow?_

Seemingly an eternity later, still seated in her office, she pulled out her cell phone and fished through her contacts until she found the one she was looking for.

He answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Doctor Townsend, this is Emily Hotchner," she greeted on a single breath.

"Oh, Emily! How are you?"

_How am I? I don't know how I am._ "That's a good question." Hearing measured footsteps from the other line, she pictured her physician striding down some long hallway towards an examination room. "I can't really say, Doctor."

"What do you mean?" The sound of echoing footsteps stopped. "Is everything alright?"

"That's what I'm hoping you'll be able to tell me."

~.~.~

"Mommy?"

Emily glanced at the little girl who had previously been asleep in her arms. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

Avery rubbed her eyes slowly. "When's Daddy coming home?"

Emily smoothed some of her daughter's soft curls out of her face. "Soon."

"How soon?"

"Well, Ave, he's usually gone for about a week. It's only been…" she counted backwards, "three days."

"Four more?" Avery whined. "That's a long time."

"I know," Emily said softly. "But I also know that your daddy's really smart, and his team is, too. Maybe they'll catch the bad guy tomorrow, so he can come home early."

Avery managed a tired smile. "Okay." Her eyes were shut when she spoke again. "Mommy?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Why did you have to go to the doctor's office today?"

Emily faltered for a split second. "Oh…I, uh…it was just a regular check-up," she said quickly. Internally, she was tearing herself to shreds. _I can't believe I just looked my daughter in the eyes and lied to her._

Avery, however, expected nothing. "Did they give you a lollipop?"

"You know, they didn't. And I _really_ wanted a cherry one."

Avery was appalled. "That's not fair!"

"It isn't," Emily agreed, shaking her head.

"I would've given you one if I was your doctor," Avery said seriously, wrapping her arms securely around her mother's neck.

"Well then, I wish you were my doctor," Emily said with a sweet smile.

"I should be! Then all I'd have to do is hug you and you'd live forever and ever," Avery exclaimed, a wide grin lighting up her face.

Emily thanked her lucky stars that it was dark in the room, making it impossible for Avery to see the tears pooling in her eyes. "That sounds great, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the little girl's cheek. "That really sounds great."

~.~.~

"Guess where I am."

Emily set her cell phone on the counter and put it on speaker as she shut the bathroom door and took off her shirt. "Ah, I don't know…the jet, maybe?"

Hotch chuckled. "Nice try, but no. Guess again." Silently, he opened the front door and took off his shoes before wandering from room to room in search of his wife. They would have the entire house to themselves; after all, the kids were still at school.

And God, he had missed her.

Emily stared at her half naked reflection in the mirror. "I don't know, Aaron," she said again.

"I'm closer than you think," he hinted. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home," she said, her right hand coming up to her left breast reluctantly.

"I know, but where at home?"

"Bathroom." _There. There it is again. _She took a deep breath. _The lump._

Hotch smiled to himself as he stood in the middle of the adjoining master bedroom. "Don't freak out, okay?"

Now Emily was confused. "Wait, what?"

But any further thoughts were chased away as she heard him step towards the door, heard it open with a slight creak…

"No, Aaron, don't come in h –"

But he didn't listen.

His smile fell as he took in the sight before him, a shocked, shirtless Emily with a look of pure fear shining in her large eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_, but no words left her mouth. They just stood there, looking at each other with mixed expressions.

Hotch felt his heart wrench. "Emily, you're shaking," he whispered. Stepping towards her, he pulled her close and held her. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing," she said against his suit jacket. "It's nothing."

He palmed the side of her face sweetly. "Honey, you're not the only profiler in this house," he said gently. "I _know_ something has been on your mind lately; something has been bothering you since the day I left. _What's wrong?_" he asked again.

"I –"

"And please…don't say 'nothing'," he begged.

Her lower lip trembled as she shook her head violently.

"Look at me, Em." She did. "I love you so much. When something bothers you, it bothers me. We've been married, what, seven and a half years?" His voice cracked slightly. "Don't you trust me?"

It was then that she broke down and let the tears fall.

Holding her to him as tightly as possible, Hotch ran his fingers up and down her bare back to calm her as she clutched his dress shirt in two desperate fists. "Emily…"

Peering at him through moist, tangled bangs, she slowly took his hand in hers and guided it to the underside of her left breast.

At first, he was confused.

But Emily knew the moment he understood, the moment he felt it.

Hotch sought her gaze. "Oh, honey…"

She shuddered as he kissed her tears away. "It's probably just a cyst, or a benign tumor," she said – _rambled_ – aloud, needing to hear it just as much as he did. "I…I'm…I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, right?" She sniffled.

"Of course." He weaved his fingers through her hair, cradled her neck, kissed her cheek. "Have you seen a specialist yet?"

"I visited my physician two days ago. I have an appointment tomorrow."

"I'm going with you."

"_No._" The ferocity in the word startled them both. "No, Aaron, you're going to stay here with Jack and Avery, and –"

"It's not open for argument, Emily," he informed with finality. "You and I are going to see a specialist and he or she is going to tell us that you're going to be okay." His hands moved to frame her face. "Do you hear me? You're going to be okay, Emmy," he said, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. A warm tear slid down his cheek. "Everything's going to be okay."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: If you have the time, please leave me some feedback; not only do reviews spur me to update faster, but they always brighten my day!<strong>


	3. Diagnosis

**Author's Note: After a visit to her physician, Emily is referred to an oncologist who delivers the news to her and Hotch. Thank you again for reading.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Emily closed her eyes, her body trembling slightly as Hotch gently squeezed her hand. "Say it again."<p>

The resident oncologist – now _her_ oncologist – gave the woman before him a sad frown. "Invasive ductile carcinoma, stage-two B." He watched as her face contorted at his words. "Breast cancer."

Emily fought back her tears. "How many tumors?"

"Four. The largest is just over four centimeters." There was a slight pause. "The cancer has spread to your axillary lymph nodes, as well. "

Tightening her grip on Hotch's hand, she met the doctor's gaze. "H- how? No one in my family has ever gotten breast cancer. And…I've come in for…for mammograms every single year," she stammered, her hold on control gradually diminishing.

Slowly, Doctor Haynes – for that was his name – took a seat in front of the frozen couple. "Eighty-five percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer have no family history of it. And many breast cancer cells grow slowly. In fact, most invasive breast cancer tumors are present six to eight years before they are ever felt or seen during a typical breast examination." Haynes tried out a tentative smile. "The good news is that you spotted it in an early stage. This way, the treatment will be more successful," he explained.

"How successful?" Hotch asked, almost dreading the answer.

Haynes thought back. "Well, a National Cancer Institute study says that eighty-nine percent of all women with breast cancer are alive five years after their initial diagnosis, so –"

"And the other eleven percent?" Emily interrupted, still on the verge of crying.

"They had a later stage of cancer. Stage-three or four," he clarified. "Since your diagnosis occurred in stage II, however, _your_ survival rate jumps to ninety-eight percent."

"My survival rate for five years." _I won't even be able to see Avery graduate. _Emily let out a shaky breath. "And what if it comes back?"

"Emily…" Hotch whispered.

"What would my survival rate be then?" she continued bitterly.

The doctor, who was not much older than Reid, looked at her almost sheepishly. "Lesser," he answered quietly.

Emily nodded. "Lesser," she repeated solemnly. Her head throbbed painfully at the notion, her heart pounding too quickly to be good. _It was too much_. "I think I need some privacy," she muttered weakly.

"Of course." And at that, Haynes was out of the room.

As soon as the door shut behind the young man, Emily spun around in Hotch's arms and broke down. He held her to him as tightly as possible, rocked her back and forth, pressed a kiss to her temple as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice thick. "I'm so sorry…"

Hotch framed her pretty face with his hands. "You're _sorry?_" he asked incredulously. "Emily…sweetheart, you have _nothing_ to be sorry about."

Emily shook her head violently. "You're crying," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hotch buried his face in the crook of her neck. "This is _not_ your fault. None of it is. I need you to understand that, Emily," he said hoarsely.

Emily ignored him. "I was so sure it wouldn't be cancer. _So _sure. I just woke up with that feeling, you know?" "Aaron…" She moaned and hugged him closer. "What if…what if I fall in the other…" a sob wracked her shoulders, "the other two percent?"

"You won't," Hotch said huskily, his vision blurred. "Listen to me, sweetheart." He thumbed away one of her tears. "You are the strongest woman I know. You will get through this." He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "_We_ will get through this."

Her body crumpled against his. "You promise?"

"I promise."

~.~.~

Tearing his gaze from the road, Hotch briefly glanced at Emily. She hadn't spoken a word for the entire car ride; instead, she stared out the passenger-side window with unseeing eyes. A brochure was lying open in her lap, and Hotch could read, in tiny print, _Every three minutes a woman in the United States is diagnosed with breast cancer._

A chill ran down his spine and he refocused on the road, his mind running circles. _Every three minutes._ Hotch glanced at the car's digital clock. Twelve twenty-seven, it read.

At twelve thirty, who would be next?

Pulling into their driveway, Hotch reached to his side and took Emily's small hand in his. He stroked it, massaged it gently. "We're home," he announced, his soft, warm voice soothing her aching heart.

Still, Emily said nothing, only nodded, undid her seat belt, and climbed out of the car.

"_Mommy!"_

Emily looked up just in time to see Avery running towards her and pouncing into her arms. "Hi, my sweet girl," she greeted, a slow smile curving her lips.

Hotch's heart swelled as he saw Emily's face brighten. He chuckled. "Ave, you don't think you're getting too old for Mommy to pick you up?"

"Daddy, I'm not even seven yet," Avery said seriously, as Emily carried her into the house. "I'm gonna stay _right_ here," she grinned, snuggling farther into her mother's embrace.

Emily's smile widened. "Good, because I don't ever want to let you go."

Avery giggled. "Then don't!"

Hotch kissed her daughter's shoulder. "Where's your brother?"

"In the kitchen with Miss Louise."

Louise, their elderly neighbor who often babysat when Hotch and Emily were working late, rounded the corner then, a plate of sandwiches in her outstretched hands.

"Emily, Aaron! I just finished making lunch for the kids, I hope you don't mind," she said kindly.

"Oh, Louise, you're a godsend. Thank you so much," Emily said, giving the woman a one-armed hug.

"It's the least I could do." And at that, she was gone.

Jack grinned as Emily set Avery down and the girl ran to his side. "Sandwich?" he asked his parents, his mouth full.

"Don't mind if I do," Hotch answered, passing one to Emily, too, as the four of them sat at the dining table.

Finishing his and washing it down with a glass of water, Jack leaned back in his chair. "So, where'd you guys go?"

Just like that, all semblances of Emily's remaining happiness were gone. She immediately stiffened, imperceptibly enough that the children didn't notice.

But Hotch did. "Your mom and I went to the doctor's office."

"I thought you already went, Mommy," Avery said, her small eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

"I did. My doctor just wanted me to be extra careful, so I…I took more tests," Emily said, trying in vain to calm herself. _After all_, she told herself in a means to soothe her conscience, _it isn't completely a lie._

"And what did he say?" Jack asked. "You're okay, right?"

_Invasive ductile carcinoma, stage-two B. Breast cancer. _Emily met his sweet, concerned gaze from across the table. She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

The boy smiled. "Good." Then he turned to his sister and grabbed her hand. "Come on, Ave, I want to show you the new game I got."

Avery beamed. "Okay!"

And they were off.

Wordlessly, Emily unfolded her body from her chair and drifted away to peer out of the large picture window covering their back wall. She flinched as she felt Hotch come up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, but eventually, she leant back against his chest and sighed as he kissed her neck.

"It's so beautiful outside."

"You're beautiful, Emily."

"The sky is so blue. I haven't seen skies this blue since my year in France," she said quietly. She closed her eyes as Hotch began to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. "Have you ever been to Paris, Aaron?"

"No." He pressed his cheek to hers. "I considered taking you there for our honeymoon, but I thought you'd enjoy Italy more."

"Hmmm. You'd like it," Emily mused. "I've been thinking of taking Avery and Jack there for Bastille Day…France's National Day," she explained. "I've wanted to for a while. Every year, on July fourteenth, _hundreds_ of blue, white, and red balloons are released from crowds around the Eiffel Tower. It's incredible." She bit her lip as her voice broke. "And now I may never see Avery's face light up at the sight, or hear…" A shudder ran through her body. "Or laugh at Jack trying to count each and every one of them…"

"No, honey," Hotch soothed. "You _will_. We will go there and –"

_"Why?"_ Emily suddenly cried, her voice thick with desperation. "Why is this happening to me?"

Try as he might to prevent it, Hotch felt his heart breaking into pieces at his love's pain. "I don't know, Em," he muttered sadly. _God, please. Help her._ "I don't know."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Reviews are love. (Please?)<strong>


	4. Strength

**Author's Note: Emily struggles with the knowledge that she must tell Avery and Jack about her diagnosis. Beginning excerpt is from the book "_Stand By Her_," by John W. Anderson. Once again, thank you so much for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><em>The bottom line is this: you need to be there for her, whenever and however she needs you. Let her know that you not only love her the same way as you did before the diagnosis, but more so. It's also important to tell her that you are still physically attracted to her as much as you were before she was diagnosed. Your mission is to protect and defend her femininity, and how she feels about herself as a woman. Your wife must know, on a deep emotional level, that she is your one and only. In other words, she is and always will be your trophy wife. You must become your wife's biggest cheerleader. You are riding on an emotional roller coaster. She, meanwhile, is aboard an emotional rocket ship. You are her rudder, and that rudder needs to be steady and true. The time has arrived for you to be her Mr. Big – being there, for her, for whatever she needs, whenever she needs it. This is not the time to be running off to the office, gym, or bar. This is the time to be a grown man, a real man, which means being her caregiver. <em>

Putting the book away with trembling hands, Hotch sighed quietly and dropped his gaze to Emily, who was asleep at his side. _You need to stay strong, Aaron,_ he told himself. _She needs you now more than ever._

Wrapping an arm around her soft waist, he pressed his lips to her back, peppering kisses down the black satin strap of her bra. Much to his surprise, she immediately turned to face him, her tired, red-rimmed eyes meeting his.

"Hi," Emily said softly.

"Hi." Hotch ran a finger along her jaw-line. "How long have you been awake?"

She shrugged. "A while. I didn't get much sleep last night," she admitted sheepishly.

_Neither did I._ "Em, honey, you need your rest."

"I know, I know, I just…" She trailed away, her gaze moving to some spot on the wall behind him. "I have to tell them, don't I?"

Without asking, Hotch knew who Emily was referring to.

_Jack. _

_Avery._

"Yeah." His lips curved sadly. "Yeah, you do."

"How?" Emily's eyes were back on his. "How do I tell Jack that I may not see him graduate high school, or…" she swallowed thickly, "or tell Avery that I may never see her become a teenager?" Her voice shook.

"You don't." Hotch watched as a confused expression flitted across her face. "Jack is…well, he's old enough to know and understand what cancer is. And he'll want you to be truthful, too. But most importantly, you need to tell him that even though it'll take you a long time, you will recover. He will need that hope just as much as you do."

"And Avery?" _My baby girl…_

His heart wrenched. "With Avery, you'll probably have to simplify things. Say…say that your doctor told you that you have a bad disease but that he also said it can be cured. Then, so she doesn't feel helpless, you tell her that part of the cure is her laughter, her sweetness…her love and support. Because, Emily," Hotch caressed her cheek lovingly, "we're all in this fight together.

~.~.~

"Jack, can I talk to you?"

The boy looked up from his homework. "Sure." Moving his backpack to the floor, he cleared up a chair for Emily.

She gave him a tentative smile. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you and…well, it's been eating me up inside that I haven't."

Unbeknownst to either of the two, Hotch listened from the adjoining room, his eyes closed in grim anticipation.

"What is it, Mom?"

"I…" Emily let out a long sigh. "I'm _so_ proud of you. Every single day. I want you to know that."

Jack gave her a lopsided grin. "I know. Thanks."

Hotch's chest burned. _Oh, Emily…_

"You're so strong, just like your father," she continued. "And smart, too." She motioned to the textbook in front of him. "You're still making straight A's?"

Jack nodded. "Top five percent of my grade," he said with a smug little smile.

"I'm so proud of you," she repeated, this time in a whisper.

His smile faltered. "Are you okay, Mom? You look kind of…I don't know. Worn out."

Emily blinked back tears. _I have cancer, Jack._ She reached forward and brushed her thumb along his cheekbones, burning his sweet, boyish face into her memory. "I'll be fine, sweetheart. Let me know if you need any help on your homework."

"Actually, there was this one question…"

Slumping against the wall in exhaustion, Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and let a shuddery breath slip past his lips. _Stay strong. Stay strong. Stay strong._

"Why are you sad, Daddy?"

He opened his eyes to see Avery standing in front of him. "I'm not sad, honey." He forced a smile. "You know, I think your Mommy could really use a hug."

"Okay."

"…and that's why x would equal one hundred thirty-seven." Emily stopped as she felt two small arms wrapping around her tightly. "And who might this be?" Kneeling to Avery's height, she kissed her nose playfully, just as she had done when Avery was a baby. "You know something, Avery? I've been needing one of your special hugs for the entire day today."

"My hugs are special?" the girl asked, her innocence so profound that it rocked Emily to her core.

"Honey, they're the _best,_" she answered with a watery smile.

A tender beat later, Avery pressed a finger to the corner of Emily's eye, touching the wetness there. "What's wrong, Mommy? You look sad, like Daddy."

At his sister's observation, Jack stilled his writing and glanced back and forth between his parents, the very same question dancing in his eyes.

Hotch eventually shook his head. "Avery, Mommy and Daddy aren't sad. We're just tired." He sought Emily's gaze. "It's been a really long week."

A wave of fatigue washed through Emily at his words. "In fact," she said, standing and pushing in her chair, "if you all don't mind, I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Already?" Jack asked, checking the clock on the opposite wall. "It's barely after eight."

But she was already gone.

~.~.~

"_I can't tell them."_

Hotch enveloped her in a tight embrace as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Baby…" he murmured into her hair.

"_No, _Aaron. You call me strong –"

"_You are_."

"– but I can't do it. I physically_ can't!" _Emily outright screamed. "And I don't want to," she moaned. The tremors wracking her body increased. "I know I have to," she managed between violent, heaving breaths, "but I don't want to." She clutched at him desperately. "_Please_…don't make me, Aaron. Don't make me tell them."

"Tell us what?"

Hotch looked up to see Jack standing in the previously closed doorway.

"Mom, are you okay?"

"Jack, please leave," Hotch said quietly.

Taking note of the tone of his father's voice, the boy was about to do just that when Emily spoke. "No, Jack," she cried quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Bring your sister and come back over here," she pleaded.

His eyes wide with shock and the slightest bit of fear, Jack immediately took off in search of Avery, concern visibly etched in his fine features.

He didn't leave his parents waiting for very long. Less than five minutes later, he was back in the room with Avery behind him, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

"Mommy?"

"Come here," Emily mouthed, pulling the little girl into her arms and watching as Jack climbed into the bed beside them.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" Avery whimpered into her mother's shirt. "Why're you crying?"

"Why are you sad?" Jack added, his concern growing as Emily grasped his hand like a lifeline.

"I just love you _so_ much," she responded tearfully, and Hotch suddenly heard Haley answering Jack with those exact same words, eight years ago…right before she died…

"Do you want me to get Ellie?" Avery asked almost shyly. "She always makes me feel better."

Emily envisioned the pale pink elephant they had gotten Avery after she had just been born. Avery never went anywhere without it. "You know, sweetheart," she sniffled, "I think Ellie would help me a lot. But maybe tomorrow. Right now, there's only one thing I want."

"What do you want, honey?" Hotch asked softly, running his hands through her thick, silky hair. "Tell me."

Looking at her children, Emily tried for a smile, but it didn't reach her tired eyes. "Do you think that you two could do something for me?"

"Anything," Jack answered as Avery nodded in agreement.

"Could you…could you both sleep here with your daddy and me tonight?" When Hotch laid his eyes on her once more, he was struck by how fragile she looked. Almost like a child. He snuggled closer to her as he felt his own grasp on his strength and control weakening. "Please?"

"Yeah," Jack answered after a second of silence. "Of course we can, Mom."

More tears rolled down Emily's cheeks as Avery moved to rest her head on her chest, and as Jack lay at her side, their hands still holding each other tightly. Stretching along the side opposite of Jack, Hotch kissed her cheek. "Try and get some sleep, honey. You need it." She was quiet. "We'll all be here when you wake up. I promise."

"I love you three so much," Emily eventually choked out, somehow managing to wrap her hands around them all. "You all have made me the happiest woman in the world."

"Mom…"

"I'm so lucky," Emily continued, the tears still coming, "_so_ lucky to have you all in my life."

"Mommy?"

"I love you so much," Emily repeated, "I love you so much." Turning to muffle her sobs in her now soaking pillow, her sad, world-weary eyes met those of her husband. "_I love you,_" she said, and he had to strain to hear her.

The words shot straight to his heart, not unlike a piercing bullet. "Em…"

And then, the knowledge and events of the day caught up with her, and Emily allowed herself to fall headfirst into the dark abyss of sleep.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: If you have the time, please leave me a review or two. The response I received for the last chapter - a whopping <em>sixteen<em> reviews! - was incredible and I hope I can live up to that for this chapter, too. Thank you in advance. **


	5. Eight Years

**Author's Note: Emily finds Jack in his room the next morning, and decides that it's finally time to tell him everything. Thank you, once again, for reading! This chapter is the most emotional I have written so far; I sincerely hope you love it.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"Jack?"<p>

At the sound of Emily's voice, the boy looked up from the books he was stuffing in his backpack. "Hi, Mom," he greeted with a small smile, the painful events of the previous night permanently ingrained in his mind. Her never-ending tremors, the heart-wrenching sound she made as she gasped for breath between sobs…

…the way she had cried herself to sleep.

"Hi, honey," she responded in a somewhat restrained tone. "Your breakfast is ready."

"Alright." Jack swung his backpack over one shoulder. "Thank you," he said sheepishly.

Emily nodded idly. "You're welcome." He was about to head past her to the kitchen, his school things in hand, when she spoke again, quieter this time. "I've already called your teacher to tell her that you won't be in class today."

Jack stopped halfway to his door. "I won't? How come?"

"There's something I need to tell you." She took a deep breath, held it for ten long seconds, let it out. "Something serious."

"Okay," he said warily, letting his school bag fall to the floor as he moved to his bed and took a seat. "What is it, Mom?"

Folding her legs to the side as she sat in front of the boy she had come to adore as not just a son, but a _biological_ one as well, Emily felt her nerves reappearing. "Do you remember the day that your father and I went to the doctor's office?"

Jack nodded. "Miss Louise came over to watch Avery and me." Then he frowned. "Why? What about it?"

"It…" She huffed as her voice cracked slightly. Reaching forward to cover his hands with hers, Emily said, "It wasn't a routine check-up."

With every second that passed, Jack's trepidation and concern increased. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly, reluctantly.

"I'm sick, sweetheart." At his ensuing stunned silence, Emily rubbed her thumbs in random patters along his palms, trying in vain to soothe both him _and_ her. But behind her carefully crafted defenses, her mind was doing loops. _You have to tell him,_ she reminded herself grimly.

And so, she did.

"How much do you know about cancer, Jack?"

At the question, Jack's head snapped up abruptly, his gaze moving from their clasped hands to her face, her usually bright eyes, her pink lips that habitually curved into a smile for him or Avery, but were now stretched in a pale, thin line. "I…um, I…" he stuttered, before clearing his throat and trying again. "I know that you can get it from smoking too much. That's what happened to Michael's dad," Jack said, referring to a boy in his homeroom whose father had passed away due to lung cancer which had metastasized and spread to his esophagus and stomach. Jack suddenly stiffened. "That's not what you have, right?"

Emily bit her lip and closed her eyes at the pain that was sure to come. "No. No, I don't have _lung _cancer, but…"

"But?" he choked out.

_Oh, God. _"I have breast cancer, Jack."

"Breast cancer?" the boy echoed numbly.

Suddenly, Jack was the five year old boy who climbed into their bed at night when it was raining too hard, the five year old boy who cowered during scary movies, the five year old boy who clung to her like a lifeline when his Daddy was gone on a case…and she felt her heart stop. Unable to speak, Emily just nodded and pulled him into her arms. "Yeah," she murmured hoarsely, but not before a single tear rolled down her cheek to stain her shirt. "Yeah."

"But…but breast cancer is different from lung cancer, right?" Jack asked, desperately searching for some semblance of hope. "You're not gonna…" His voice trembled. "I mean, with Michael's dad, he…"

"My doctor says I have a ninety-eight percent chance of survival," Emily answered, saving him from having to ask the question she knew was on his mind: _Are you going to die?_

"Oh. Ninety-eight percent. That's…that's good," Jack said quickly, stumbling over the words.

"It is," she agreed, somehow managing a watery yet consoling smile.

But Jack wasn't immediately consoled. "There's something you're not telling me," he said astutely; not as a question, but as a definite fact.

Aaron's earlier words resounded freshly in Emily's mind. _He'll want you to be truthful._ She sighed. "There is. The ninety-eight percent survival rate is…" She swallowed thickly. "It's for five years."

The heavy feeling that corresponded with pure dread was back in his stomach. "_Only _five years?"

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but soon closed it, unsure of how to continue. Unsure of how to comfort him. "Well," she said after a long while, "the majority of women diagnosed with an early stage of breast cancer live _at least_ five years after the initial diagnosis, and many live for more than that. Many live a normal lifespan. But there are some who…who relapse before they can complete that first five years after treatment," she explained gently.

"Relapse?"

"The cancer came back."

Jack's face fell. "Oh."

"But you and I, we can make sure that doesn't happen in my case," Emily said hurriedly, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. "Sure, it'll take an endless number of months for me to fully recover, but I will," she assured, remembering what Aaron had also said: _He will need that hope just as much as you do._ "And Jack…you can help me."

"I can?" Their grip on each other's hands tightened. "How?"

Caressing his cheek affectionately, Emily said, "You can be the strong young man your father and I have raised you to be. You can be the best big brother Avery could ever imagine; you can look out for her, comfort her when she needs comforting, and lend an ear when she just wants to talk. And…and Jack…" Emily blinked back her tears. "You can love me."

Jack hugged her closer. "I do, Mom. I do love you."

"I know," she choked out. "And _I _just want _you_ to know that I _never_ wanted to have to tell you any of this. I never wanted to hurt you."

"S'okay," he murmured against her shoulder. "I'm okay."

Emily pressed a kiss to his forehead. "When you were four and…and your mother, Haley, had just been killed…all I wanted to do was take away your pain," she said hoarsely, shaking her head. "And now I'm inflicting it on you."

"No, you're n –"

"But I _need_ you to know that everything I told you yesterday, I meant." She pulled back an inch to look at him more clearly. "I really do love you, Jack. _So_ much," she cried. "You've let me in and you've let me be such a huge part of your life. And honey…I can't even begin to tell you how much that means to me," she finished, her voice raw and _barely_ above a whisper.

Finally, Jack spoke. "I don't know if you know this," he began slowly, unsurely, "but before my real mom died, she made my dad promise that he'd teach me about love, because it's the only thing that matters. I'm not even a teenager yet, but I understand it now, and that's because of you." Wiping an errant tear away with the collar of his tee-shirt, he continued, "You taught Dad how to love; you showed him what it was all about. And he taught me. _You_ carried out my mom's last wish. And…" Their eyes met. "And I still remember what you told me the day before you and Dad got married. You said that you didn't want to replace my real mom and that you didn't want me to forget her because…to forget her would be like forgetting myself." He took a massive, heaving breath to steady himself. "I never have forgotten her, and I will _never_ forget what you have done for me. Because, _Mom,_" he said, putting as much meaning into the one word as possible, _"I _need _you_ to know; the eight years that I've spent as your son have been the best eight years of my life."

And then, together, they cried until there were no more tears to be shed.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: The time that each and every one of you put into reading this story is greatly appreciated. The same goes for reviews; they always make my day and I know for a fact that it's because of them that I am the writer I am. So, please, if you have the time, leave me a couple words; I'd love to know your feelings (and other feedback) about the current chapter. Thank you in advance!<strong>


	6. Avery

**Author's Note: Emily struggles with the pain of explaining her condition to Avery. Again, thank you for your continued interest in this story! It really means a lot to me. **

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Standing in the doorway to Avery's room, Emily watched with a faint smile on her face as the young girl quietly chattered away to herself, pretending that it was her dolls and stuffed animals making the conversation.<p>

Avery, sensing the presence of someone else, set down her toys and turned around to see her mother. Her visage brightened immediately. "Hi, Mommy."

"Hi, baby." Emily moved to sit beside her on the carpeted floor. "What are you doing?"

"Playing with my dolls," she answered sweetly. "See? This one's you and this one's Daddy!"

Emily's smile grew as she observed the two, in a wedding dress and tuxedo, respectively. "What are Daddy and I doing?"

"Getting married," Avery giggled.

Emily let out a quick laugh. "Baby, your Daddy and I got married before you were born. That's a long time ago."

"I know. I just like playing." Looking at Emily with a curious smile, she asked, "Did you have dolls when you were little?"

"I did," she nodded. "In almost all of the countries that my parents and I visited because of my mom's postings, I got to choose a doll."

"Really?" Avery's brown eyes widened.

"Mm-hmm. I never really got to spend too much time with my mom because she was always so busy, so collecting dolls was like a bonding activity for the both of us." Emily paused, thinking back to her childhood. "Out of all of them, my favorite was the one I got from France. She had perfectly curled blonde hair, bright blue eyes, shiny black shoes, and a pretty blue, red and white dress made of lace." Her expression softened at the memories. "But I never really played with her or any of the others."

Avery's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How come?"

"The dolls that I had were made of porcelain. I was a clumsy kid; my mom was always afraid that I'd drop one and break it. Besides," Emily said, remembering, "I had a different form of entertainment."

"Like what?"

Pulling Avery onto her lap, she wrapped her arms around her daughter's waist and held her close. "Whenever my dad had free time, he would hoist me onto his lap, just like this, and read me stories. Sometimes, he would make me laugh so much because he would change his voice to match every single character in the book, or sometimes, he'd talk really slowly for some, and quickly for the others…" Idly, Emily began to braid Avery's hair. "Your Grandpa was such a silly man. We had lots of fun."

"I like it when you and Daddy read me stories," Avery grinned.

"I know you do." Emily pressed a kiss to the girl's cheek. "Maybe one of these days, you can skip school and I can get Grandpa to come over and read _you_ a story. I'm sure he'd love to."

"Really?" Avery asked again, even more excited this time.

"Really, really."

Silence lapsed between them for a while, in which Emily continued running her fingers through Avery's soft locks, desperate for anything to distract her from the painful conversation they were surely going to have.

Finally, Avery spoke. "Daddy said I don't have to go to school today."

"That's right, baby; you don't have to," Emily said quietly, her heart pounding wildly as she thought of how to explain…everything.

"Why, Mommy?"

"Well…" She cleared her throat. "Mommy has something really important to tell you."

"Okay." Avery smiled, then turned in Emily's lap to face her. "Tell me."

Thinking back to her conversation with Jack, Emily began the same way. "Do you remember when Daddy was away on his last case, and how I went for a doctor's visit?"

Avery nodded. "They didn't give you a lollipop. I remember."

_She's so innocent. Oh, God._ "And then, do you remember how Daddy and I went to the doctor's office again, a couple days later?"

"Uh huh. You said that your doctor just wanted to be extra sure that you're okay."

"Well, Avery…I…I'm not okay," Emily choked out.

Avery frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Mommy's really sick."

"But…but you don't look sick." Avery pressed a hand to her mother's forehead. "You don't feel sick, either."

"I know." Emily took Avery's hand and kissed her palm. "But I am," she said with a sad sigh.

"Whenever I'm sick, Daddy takes me to the pharmacy and gets me medicine and then I'm all better. Do you need me to tell Daddy to go to the pharmacy and get _you_ some medicine? They let you choose what flavor you want, too," Avery rambled. "I always pick bubblegum, but they have cherry, too. You like cherries, don't you, Mommy?"

Emily felt her heart shattering into a million pieces. "The pharmacy doesn't have the sort of medicine I need, baby."

"Oh." Avery huffed quietly at the next thought that popped into her head. "Do you have to get a shot?"

Everything Doctor Haynes had told her about chemotherapy echoed in her ears at that moment. "Kind of," Emily answered vaguely, almost…weakly.

The young girl grimaced. "I don't like shots. They hurt."

Emily paused, closing her eyes at the weight of the knowledge she was about to pass on to her daughter. "Avery," she began slowly, "the sickness that Mommy has is really bad."

Taken slightly aback at the stiffness and gravity making a sudden appearance in her mother's voice, Avery thought back to the worst sickness she had ever gotten. "Do you have the flu, Mommy? I had it and I couldn't go to school for a week, 'cause it was so bad. Remember?"

Emily tucked a curl of Avery's hair behind her ear, using the action as a means to stall. As a means to _feel._ "I remember," she finally answered. "But no…" She cleared her throat. "The sickness I have is a lot worse and will take a lot longer for me to get better from."

"How long?" the ever-curious child asked. "Two weeks?" She was met by a deafening silence. "Four?"

Their gazes met and Emily felt her heart stop beating for a split second. Avery's eyes held a blissfully oblivious look, an innocence so profound…an unquestioning faith in the ways of the world.

And in a matter of seconds, that would all be ruined.

"Baby, my treatment – my medicine, I guess you could call it – lasts for around four months." Emily heard the resulting gasp fall from Avery's lips, but she knew she had to continue. "But…the doctors and I won't know that I'm _perfectly_ healthy for…for another five years."

Avery's small jaw dropped open. "_Five years?"_ She whimpered quietly. "What do you have, Mommy?"

"I have something called breast cancer," Emily answered almost meekly. She had said it aloud only once before, and the single statement alone seemed to have a damaging impact on her vision, on her breathing. Struggling for composure, she tried to muster a satisfactory explanation for the six - almost seven - year old before her. "You see, Ave, our bodies are made of billions, even _trillions_, of these tiny little things called cells. Cells also make up our heart and our lungs and everything else we need to function properly. To live." There was a pause. "Cancer, the sickness I have, makes bad things happen to our cells, and eventually, our bodies. It's hard to get rid of, but –"

"But…but you're going to be okay, right?" Avery's question was shaky, her eyes wide with fear this time. "Right?"

"That's where you come in, baby. I'm going to need all the help – all the hugs and kisses – you can give me. And then I'll be okay." Tears fighting, _clawing_, for an escape, Emily asked, "Can you do that for me, Avery?"

"Yes, Mommy. I can help you." She wrapped her arms snugly around the crying woman's waist. "I love you," she mumbled, forming tears of her own.

"I love you more," Emily barely managed.

Reaching beside her, Avery handed Ellie, her treasured plush pink elephant, to her mother. "You're going to be okay, Mommy." She pressed a kiss to Emily's now damp cheek. "Ellie and I will make you all better, I _promise._"

~.~.~

"God, I wish I would just _stop_ crying!"

Running a comforting hand down her spine as they laid in bed together later that night, side by side, her face buried in the crook of his neck, Hotch pressed his lips to her crown. "Sometimes all you need is a good cry to relieve some tension and feel a bit better," he tried reassuring.

But Emily would hear nothing of the sort. "I've shed more tears in the past two weeks than I have in my entire _life_, Aaron. That's not normal."

"Honey…what you're going through and…and what you're preparing yourself for isn't exactly normal either," Hotch pointed out, validating her every action like the good, supportive husband he was.

An overwhelming sadness overtook her as he gently wiped tear after tear away. "I wouldn't wish this on even my fiercest enemy," Emily said seriously, her voice coming out in a strained whisper.

"I know."

Then, finally, she built up the courage to voice the thought that had been on her mind for too long; the question that was the catalyst of her current, body-tearing sobs. "Aaron?"

"Yes, my love?" he crooned quietly.

"What if she…" Emily's tears wet his skin as she started over. "What if Avery gets it when she grows older?"

Their eyes met in shock.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: What FanFiction says is absolutely correct - reviews and critique are the most rewarding gifts a reader can give. I'd love to hear what you have to say!<strong>


	7. Dearly Beloved

**Author's Note: Emily breaks the news to her parents and the team. Thank you so much for reading!**

**...Also, I kind of slacked off in replying to reviewers of the last chapter, and I feel really bad so I just want to give a shoutout to the ever so awesome Hailey9989, sarweber22, Daisyangel, HGRHfan35, starryeyes12, and HPforever-after. You guys are absolutely _amazing_ and never fail to make me feel so blessed. I can't thank you enough.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!  
><strong>

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><p>Concentrating solely on the feel of Hotch rubbing soothing patterns on her back, Emily reached for her phone and dialed the number from memory.<p>

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Just when Emily was sure it would go to voicemail, the person on the other line picked up. "Hello?"

She swallowed thickly. "Hi, Mom."

"_Emily!"_ She could picture the Ambassador's usually cold face lighting up; in surprise or actual delight, she wouldn't know. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm f –" She stopped, closed her eyes, collected herself. "Well, um…not too good," she eventually answered.

"Not too good?" Emily could _hear_ her mother frowning. "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

Choosing to ignore the onslaught of questions for now, she said instead, "Is Dad with you?"

"He is. Do you need me to get him?"

Emily nodded, despite the fact that no one but Hotch could see her. "Please."

From some place miles away, she heard the bustling that came with getting up from a seat, opening doors, echoing footsteps against polished wood floors. "Richard, it's Emily," she heard Elizabeth Prentiss say, her voice a tad bit muffled, maybe even…worried.

Richard Prentiss took the phone. "Hi, darling," he greeted affectionately.

At the smooth sound of his deep baritone, Emily felt like crying. "Hi, Daddy," she managed.

"Darling, are you okay? Your mother said something is wrong…"

She bit her bottom lip, worrying it away between pearly white teeth. "Can you put the phone on speaker so Mom can hear?"

"Of course." He, too, was now frowning. "But Emily…"

"There's something I need to tell you."

The sound of a glass slipping from a hand and shattering against the unyielding floor filled her ears as she broke the news.

Hotch held Emily as her knees buckled and her body sagged against his.

And the tears fell once more.

~.~.~

They were steps away from the glass doors leading to the bullpen when Emily froze.

"Em?"

"This is wrong." The words fell from her lips in a self-deprecating whisper.

Hotch took her hand, rubbed his thumb along her knuckles. "Wrong? What do you mean, honey?" he asked softly.

"It's been a month since I last visited. How do I show up, _a month later_, just to tell them that…that I have cancer?" _That I'm dying?_

Slowly but surely, he felt himself breaking impossibly more. _Strength, Aaron. Strength. She needs it and you need her. _He gently cupped her cheek. "They can help. They're your friends."

Emily sighed. "I know." _That just makes it even more wrong. That just makes it hurt even more._

Without any more ruining thoughts, she pushed open the etched glass doors behind which had been her home.

Immediately, five faces glanced upward from plain grey desks at the visitors.

"_Emily!"_

Two stood.

The other three remained seated in a pleasantly stunned silence.

Of the two, Jennifer Jareau approached first and enveloped Emily in a bone-crushing, yet ultimately sweet embrace. "My God, it's been forever! Where have you _been?_"

Emily couldn't suppress the smile that danced along her lips, and she didn't want to; it just felt too _right._ "Holed up at home, for the most part. And work, of course." _And multiple doctors' offices._ By now, the rest of the profilers were arranged in an arc around her. "How are you? All of you?"

This time, Morgan answered. "We're about as good as we can possibly be in the BAU." Then he stretched his arms wide. "Is JJ the only one who gets a hug?"

"Not at all."

Next it was Garcia, then Reid, then Rossi. Finally, it was the technical analyst who spoke the question on all of their minds.

"So, what brings you here on this fine, fun, sunny day, Em?"

_Fine?_

_Fun?_

There was a pause. A long, bruising pause.

Hotch's hand found the small of Emily's back. "She has something to tell you all," he informed, sensing his wife's reluctance, her obvious discomfort.

Her fear.

"If we could move this to the conference room…?"

Emily nodded her agreement to Hotch's previous order, so they did just that.

Once everyone was sitting, she cleared her throat and set her eyes onto a point past them all, over their shoulders. To look them in the eyes and tell them required a different kind of strength; one she didn't have, no matter how many times Hotch said she did.

"What Aaron said is correct," she eventually divulged. "I do have something to tell you. It…it's just…" Emily started over as Hotch gave her knee a comforting squeeze under the table. "I should have told you all earlier, but I didn't know how I would because…because it's something so…_big._"

"Oh my God," Garcia said. "You're pregnant again, aren't you?"

Turning her gaze to the beaming blonde, Emily couldn't help but let out a brief laugh. "Oh, Pen…I wish that was it. I really do."

Garcia flushed slightly. "I'm sorry for interrupting, Em. The prospect was just too much to withhold."

"I understand."

"Please, continue." It was Rossi who spoke this time. Beside him, Reid looked at her intently, and for some odd reason, Emily felt as if he already knew the content of the next words to pass her lips.

"I have…well, I…" She coughed to disguise a voice crack. "I have breast cancer."

Their resulting individual reactions were so different, but _oh so_ frightening similar.

The pen that had been wedged between Rossi's fingers clattered to the table. JJ gasped, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. Garcia shook her head slowly, her eyes wide. "No…"

Emily just nodded.

"Y– you…" Morgan opened his mouth to say more, but couldn't. His hands gripped the edge of the table instead, his knuckles a painful white.

Reid met her gaze, and again she felt as if he could see right through her. Like he could read not only her mind, but her soul, too.

Even Hotch shut his eyes tightly, just as he had done that very day when Doctor Haynes had entered the room, his arms full of patient files and x-rays, including one that showed a four millimeter in diameter, malignant tumor on the underside of her left breast…

That was the mental image that passed through her mind right before she quietly rose from her chair and slinked out of the suffocating room.

~.~.~

"What stage?"

Reid.

_Oh, Reid._

Lifting her head from her hands, Emily glanced up at him from her seat at her old desk. His eyes were dark, concerned. "Two." She pulled her legs up onto her seat, folded them, and wrapped her arms around them, the action reminiscent of something a child would do when scared. "Invasive ductile carcinoma, stage two-B."

For a brief second, the look Reid held in his eyes regained a semblance of hope. "That's a ninety-eight –"

" – ninety-eight percent survival rate." Emily picked at her fingernails idly. "I know." Then she sighed. "I know more statistical facts, too. I know that breast cancer is the most commonly diagnosed cancer among women. I know that one in every eight women in the United States has some form of breast cancer. I know that about seventy to eighty percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer have no family history of it." _Like me. _"I know that every three minutes, someone else is diagnosed. But…" She shook her head. "But statistics are just _numbers_, Spencer. Numbers don't dictate our individual lives. They don't…control our health. Breast cancer is the leading cause of death for women ages thirty-five to seventy, no matter what race or origin. You're telling me that all the women who die of breast cancer fall into that _two_ percent?"

For once in his life, Spencer Reid was speechless.

It was then that the others joined them. "Princess," Emily heard someone say tenderly. _Morgan._ "Princess," he said again.

They looked at each other, former partners who had seen the other through the darkest, most difficult times.

"Come here."

They hugged. And hugged, and hugged…and hugged until their arms were burning.

"I want you to look at me, Emily." She did. "You have six people, right here, who would do anything for you. If you need _anything_, you just let us know."

"Anything at all," Rossi nodded. He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder.

Sweeping her gaze over her friends, her _family_, Emily felt her heart swelling. "Thank you," she managed.

JJ left a light kiss on her cheek. "It's what we're here for."

~.~.~

"Paid leave or full retirement?"

Hotch looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "Sorry?"

"I talked to my boss today," Emily explained, the palms of her hands resting flat against the cool wood of their dining table. Avery and Jack were in their rooms, fast asleep. Some TV show was on in the adjoining living room, but frankly, no one was watching it; they just needed the background noise. "He offered me one of two things," Emily continued. "Paid leave until all my chemotherapy and radiation treatments are over – so, that's what, four months? – or full retirement." She sighed. "And I don't know which one to pick."

It was a while before Hotch answered. "Full retirement."

"Why?" she retorted suddenly, quivering slightly. "Isn't that a bit like saying I won't live long enough after the treatments are over? Like I'm just caving in?"

"No, honey." He tried for a smile. "It's not at all like that."

"Then why?"

Fully setting the newspaper down, Hotch reached across the table to take her hands in his. "Think of it this way; after you're finished with the radiation and your chemo, after you're _completely_ better," he emphasized, "you wouldn't have to worry about getting up early and rushing to work. You could sleep in, relax, maybe even go back to school and get your doctorate degree." He kissed their intertwined hands. "But most importantly, you'd be around Jack and Avery more often."

"So, in other words, you're saying you want me to be a stay-at-home mom." Emily tried for a serious expression, but the tiny smile hinting at the corners of her lips gave her away.

"And a soccer mom, too. Would you look at that?" Hotch teased.

Unable to suppress it, her smile blossomed. "Then everything's settled. Full retirement it is."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this story thus far. Also, please leave me a review or two - a little bit of kindess and critique goes a <em>really<em> long way! Have a wonderful Labor Day weekend.**


	8. Raggedy Ann

**Author's Note: Emily undergoes a lumpectomy to remove the cancer from her breast. Soon afterward, Elizabeth and Richard Prentiss drop by for an unexpected visit. As always, thank you so much for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"You nervous?"<p>

Glancing up at Hotch, Emily couldn't help but nod. "A little," she answered, the crack in her voice further proving the statement.

"So am I," he admitted, reaching for her hand as they entered the waiting room.

Sitting down to fill out the necessary paperwork, Emily looked at him curiously. "Why are _you _nervous?"

"My wife's having surgery," Aaron said plainly. "Besides, I know how much you hate hospitals."

She huffed. "Yeah. But I have to do what I have to do, right?"

"Yeah."

_A lumpectomy. _In her thoughts, Emily sighed. _My body will never look - never be - the same again. _It was then that a frightening possibility entered her mind.

_What if Aaron doesn't want me after this?_

Feeling her breathing becoming unsteady, she forcefully pushed the thought away, completed the rest of the mindless medical questions, and turned them in to the receptionist.

It took a total of ten, heavily silent minutes before they called her name.

"Emily Hotchner?"

Both she and Aaron stood.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in an hour or two," Emily said quietly, managing a small, reassuring smile.

Hotch, however, had different plans. "I'm going with you, Em."

She was floored. "No…you're not."

"The doctors don't have any objections, just as long as I change into scrubs and wear a face mask," he countered. "I already asked."

"It's…it's not that. I just…I don't want you to see me like this," she explained almost timidly.

His expression immediately softened. "And I don't want you to think, for even a second, that you're alone in this. Because you're not."

"I know." Emily touched his cheek gently. "But please, Aaron. Stay here."

Gazing into her eyes, he sighed and eventually relented. "Alright, honey." He pressed a brief, sweet kiss to her lips. "I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Hotch nodded, watching as she made her way to the patiently waiting nurse at the door. "Be safe."

~.~.~

"I don't understand why they felt the need to put me in a damn wheelchair," Emily muttered under her breath. "It's not like I had surgery on my legs; I had surgery on my breast. And last time I checked, breasts were in no way related to walking."

Hotch couldn't suppress the near-silent chuckle that slipped past his lips. "They just want you to relax as much as possible, Em. I can guarantee you that there was no malicious intent behind your surgeon's decision."

"Yeah, yeah," she dismissed. She stared at her hands as he wheeled her down a long corridor leading to the hospital's main entrance, in front of which their car was parked. "I guess you're right."

A beat passed as Hotch helped her into the passenger's seat. Then, "I was beginning to get worried about you, you know." His voice had taken on an astoundingly tender quality. "You were back there for five hours."

"I know," Emily responded just as softly, staring out of the window as they drove home. "Though technically, I was only in surgery for an hour…then they let me rest, gave me some food. After all that, they laid me on top of this foam thing for _three _hours; it was undoubtedly the most boring experience of my life. They had to meld it to the shape of my body," she explained, "since my chemo and radiation starts in around a month and I have to be in the same position for each treatment. I literally came _this _close to falling asleep," she said, motioning a tiny amount with her fingers. _"So boring."_

"I can imagine," Hotch sympathized. "Doing nothing but staring at the ceiling for hours on end…"

"Speaking about falling asleep…" Emily covered her mouth as a tired yawn escaped her. "You won't be offended if I pass out once we get home, will you?"

"Of course not."

"Great. Because I am on this insane mixture of painkillers, and hormones, and…God knows what other sorts of drugs, and _all of a sudden_, I feel like crashing." She rested her head against the wind and peered at him through sleep-laden eyes.

"Go ahead and crash," Hotch said with a slight quirk of his lips. "We're not too far from the house, anyway."

"M'kay. Make sure you tell Louise I said thank you for watching the kids," she mumbled.

"I will," he promised.

"And Aaron," she yawned once more, "if you need anything, please…wake me up."

"Okay, honey."

And then, her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing evened out, and Emily began to dream.

~.~.~

Less than thirty minutes had passed at the Hotchner home before the doorbell rang.

"I've got it," Hotch called out to Jack, who was racing down the stairs. Opening the door, he was met by the pallid faces of Richard and Elizabeth Prentiss.

He blinked once, twice, momentarily stunned. Then, holding the door open, he invited them in. "Richard, Elizabeth," he greeted amicably. "Please…make your self at home."

"Thank you, son," Emily's father said, taking a seat in the main room and wringing his hands anxiously.

"I hope you don't mind us dropping by unannounced," the Ambassador said, her ever-present professional air slipping away slowly. "After Emily called, we…well, we got tickets for the next flight out."

"I don't mind at all," Hotch assured.

Richard glanced around, a question dancing in his eyes. "So…where is she?"

"Oh, she…" He glanced back at their bedroom, down the hall. "She's actually asleep right now. I'd love to wake her up, because I know she's beed wanting to see you, but…" he sighed, "her lumpectomy was today, and then she went through three hours of radiation preparation. She's exhausted," he explained. "As is, before even the diagnosis, she wasn't getting too much sleep, and…and now…"

"We understand."

"But, ummm…she's right in here." He stood and motioned for them to follow as he led them to their daughter. Pulling the plush chair in the corner to the edge of the bed for Elizabeth, Hotch sat as Emily's feet as Richard perched atop the arm of his wife's seat.

For a long minute, the world seemed to stop as three pairs of eyes travelled to the sleeping woman. Pale cheeks, slightly parted lips, dark hair that was mussed and fanning out every which way…the steady rise and fall of her chest…

Elizabeth's voice was uncharacteristically shaky as she broke the silence. "How is she?"

"She's…" Hotch paused, then started again, quieter this time. "She's about as good as anyone can be after receiving such…" He searched for the right adjective, but stopped when he realized that no one word could accurately summarize what Emily was going through. "Such news," he settled with lamely, his eyes still on his love. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming urge to pull her close and give her the world…to never let her go.

A silence fell over the room. Then, after several repressing minutes…a single sniffle.

Richard looked at his partner of over forty years. "Elizabeth…"

"I was _such_ a horrible mother."

"No," Hotch spoke up tentatively. "I'm sure you -"

"You don't even know what I was like," she argued in a hoarse, self-deprecating whisper. Her suddenly cold, almost _detached_ eyes met his. "I was never there for her; my _only _child. I never took the chance to realize, or…or try to understand everything she was going through. I never guided her through life, like a good, real mother should. I -" Her voice broke as she reached forward and cupped Emily's cheek with a trembling hand. _"I was horrible."_

"You weren't," Hotch countered with a gentle insistency, still somewhat reluctant to speak out against a woman of Elizabeth's nature. "I know for a fact that Emily wants you to know that. And…" he looked almost sheepish as the next words fell from his lips, "Thirty-something years later, I fell in love with her. Not only because of how beautiful she is, but because of her personality, her charisma. Surely you had some influence on that."

"No, I -"

"It's because of all that that she has a family of her own. Because of all that, she has a daughter and a son, and well…she's happy." Then, even though he knew it was a stretch, he finished with, "Because of_you._"

And then, the stoically composed Elizabeth Prentiss broke down and cried.

"This is my punishment, I just know it. Only it's not me suffering, it's Emily. _It's not fair._"

_No. None of this is fair. _Hotch was about to speak up once more when he heard a creak from behind the bedroom door, and glanced up to see Avery peeping her head in.

"Daddy?"

He cleared his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of a growing, emotional lump there. "Yes, baby?"

"I…I'm hungry," she said in a near silent tone, almost ashamed of the fact that she had inserted herself not what seemed like a very serious conversation. Then she managed a small smile. "Hi, grandma. Hi, grandpa."

The smiles she received in turn were watery, compassionate. "Hi, pumpkin."

Hotch gave his daughter an apologetic frown. "I'm kind of busy, Ave. Why don't you ask Jack to make you a sandwich?"

"Oh, okay, but -"

"I'll make you some food, Avery, sweetheart."

The little girl's smile grew slightly. "Really?"

"No, Elizabeth, please. Relax -"

"I want to." Standing, she placed a gentle hand on her granddaughter's shoulder. "What do you want to eat?"

A beat passed as Avery seriously contemplated her options. "Chicken noodle soup, please," she eventually chose. "And maybe we can make some for Mommy, too, 'cause whenever I'm sick, chicken noodle soup and Eliie always make me feel better."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea."

And at that, the two girls left the room, leaving the men to themselves.

And Emily.

_Oh, Emily._

"How are you?"

Hotch sighed at the painfully simple question, running a hand through his hair. His weary gaze turned to that of his father-in-law, before answering with, "Well, Emily's first chemo session is in a month, so until then, we'll both be -"

"No, no." Richard shook his head. "How are _you_, son?"

They looked at each other - _just _looked at each other - for the longest of moments. Then, just like that, a floodgate of emotions that had been welling up inside of Hotch opened up.

"I'm not sure if I can do this."

"What do you mean?" In four simple words, Richard Prentiss managed to convey an aged wisdom so profound that Hotch had to struggle for a response.

Finally, he did just that. "I'm not strong enough for her, Richard," the younger man almost cried. "I'm _hardly_ strong enough for the kids. Avery, she…she's only six years old. I don't think she fully understands what's going on." He swallowed thickly. "She asked me if her mommy was 'going to become an angel like Jack's first mommy'. Those were her _exact _words. And, of course, I told her no, that she shouldn't be thinking like that, or worrying at all. B-but…even though Emily has a ninety-eight percent chance, there's always the chance that…that…" His eyes fell closed at the thought, the sheer possibility too much for him to handle. When he spoke again, his voice was raw; raw with fear, raw with pain, raw with _love._ "I _can't _lose her, Richard. Emily is my life."

It was a while before Richard composed himself enough to speak. "You know, when Emily was young - _really_ young, maybe Avery's age," he chuckled lightly at the bittersweet memories, "every time a thunderstorm shook the house, she'd come running into our bedroom and jump underneath the covers. I'd hold her until she'd fall asleep." He reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I was strong enough for her them. I will be -" He stopped, rephrased. "I _have_ to be strong enough for her now. And…and I…"

The words were choked out, and Aaron knew he would never see a more frightening sight; the sight of a father wracked with worry and a paralyzing powerlessness. Finally, the aforementioned father managed to say a few last words.

"I will _not_ outlive my daughter." The sound of sad, heaving breaths filled the room. "My baby girl," Richard moaned. "My sweet baby girl…"

The following silence was painful. Crushing. Searing. Tendrils of conversation wandered in from another room, but in the room where Emily Hotchner lay sleeping, no words were spoken.

Until, once again, Richard.

"Something Avery said about a stuffed animal of hers…Ellie?" Hotch nodded. "Emily never really went through a stuffed animal phase; after her toddler years, that is. Her and Elizabeth collected some dolls, but I remember…I remember she came to me one day - she was maybe five or six, again, around Avery's age - and she said that she was tired of dolls she could only look at; she wanted one she could _really_play with. So, _I _bought her one. Raggedy Ann," he said, his lips lifting almost imperceptibly. "Emily brought it with her _everywhere. _She never left home without that doll. And by the time a mere two years had passed, 'raggedy' was a sever understatement. But she would never let me buy her a new one; no, whenever she found a loose stitch, or a tear, or a stain, it was up to us to get Ann fixed." Richard turned to his son-in-law. "That doll was with Emily through both the good and bad times. It…in a sense, Raggedy Ann kept her safe when her mother and I weren't around. And I just _know_…if only that doll was still around…it would make Emily so happy. The memories…" His voice trailed away, as his mind undoubtedly drifted back to better times.

Hotch found himself nodding. "I'm sure it would."

And then, an idea struck.

"Richard?" he asked. "How long were you and Elizabeth planning on staying?"

"About an hour or two, I guess." He checked his watch. "Since Em's asleep, though, we'll probably leave sooner. We got reservations at that nice hotel five minutes from here, what is the name of it again? The -"

"Oh, Richard. You shouldn't have. You and Elizabeth are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you want."

"No, no. You and Emily deserve your space." There was the briefest of pauses as Richard remembered that the other man had had a question. "Why, is there something you need?"

Aaron stood slowly, so as to not jostle the mattress and disturb emily. "Do you mind staying for a bit longer and watching the kids? There's something I need to do." His expression softened. "Something I need to find."

~.~.~

Taking the result of a three, almost four hour search out of the shopping bag, Hotch admired it with a tender smile. _It would make Emily so happy, _Richard had said.

Tucking the cloth doll under her arm, beside her pillow, he pressed a lovely, light kiss to her temple. "Goodnight, my love," he murmured affectionately. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Please leave a review, if you have the time; I'd love to know what you think so far! Also...<strong>

_**Nominations are open for the 2011 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!**_

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction. net/topic/74868/48350094/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2010, and Aug. 31st, 2011, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**


	9. Dreamer

**Author's Note: I thought that after eight chapters of solemnity and so much seriousness, we could all use a refreshing break. So, without further ado, here is what Emily was dreaming while Hotch and Richard conversed at her bedside. As always, thank you for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Come here, Michael," Emily cooed to the three year old. "Come sit with grandma."<p>

"Gramma," he repeated as he toddled towards her. "Gramma."

"Oh, you're such a smart boy," she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she lifted him onto her lap. "But where's your brother? Where's James?"

"Jay?" the little boy echoed, craning his neck in search of his twin. He whimpered when he couldn't find him. "Daddy?"

"Daddy's outside, sweetheart," Emily said, bouncing him lightly on her knee. "You want to go see him?" Michael Hotchner nodded. "Okay, we'll go to Daddy then."

"Jay?"

Nodding, she walked the boy outside, to the porch where the rest of the family was gathered. "Look, Mikey! There he is!"

_"Daddy!"_

Jack grinned and lifted his young son high above the ground, eliciting a loud fit of giggles. "I'm right here, little man. And so's your brother," he said, placing Michael by James and chuckling as the two donned identical smiles.

Her gaze still on the twins, Emily started slightly as she felt a gentle hand on her arm. She turned to see her husband of thirty years peering at her, every bit as handsome as he was the first day they met.

He patted the chair beside his. "Have a seat, Emmy," Hotch said, his voice deep, warm.

A tender expression on her face, she did just that, her lips quirking slightly upwards as James unsteadily rose to his feet and wrapped his small arms around her legs.

"He's been asking for you ever since we were in the car," Jack's wife, a petite brunette named Paige, laughed, joining them.

"Well, he and Michael are my favorite grandsons for a reason," Emily returned with a wink, ruffling James's golden-brown hair.

It was Jack's turn to laugh. "They're your only grandsons, Mom," he pointed out.

"You never know," Hotch pitched in, giving Emily's hand a gentle squeeze. "Avery might prove that wrong."

"Speaking of which, where is Avery?" Emily asked, eager to see her daughter.

"Henry's helping her out of the car right now," Hotch answered. "They should be knocking on the door any…" the doorbell rang, "…any second now."

"I'll get it," Jack offered, as his parents began to stand. And with that, he dashed off to welcome his sister.

Less than a minute later, all eight members of the immediate family were gathered in the yard, gushing over Avery and her very pregnant belly.

"How far along are you?" Paige asked with a wide grin, sitting across from her sister-in-law.

Her hand in Henry's, Avery rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "Almost seven months," she said sweetly, excitement bleeding into her tone.

Jack shot her an affectionate glance. "You're going to be a great mother."

"I hope so. Although," she chuckled, patting her stomach, "I'm ready for this little girl to get out."

Hotch smiled, thinking back to all the times he had heard Emily say those exact same words. "To be honest," Avery continued, "I have no idea how you managed twins," she told Paige, who laughed.

"To be honest, I don't know how I did it either!"

Hotch placed a hand over one of his daughter's. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

Henry looked at his father-in-law and nodded. "Taylor," he said, right as Avery answered, "Nicole."

They looked at each other.

"Obviously we still have some kinks to work out," Henry grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his wife's cheek.

"That's okay," Emily assured. "It took your father and me a good three, four hours to decide what to name you," she told Avery. "And even after that, we still differed."

"Every single day," Hotch agreed with a laugh.

"I'd always liked the name Avery." She cocked her head towards her husband. "He preferred Samantha."

"Which is why it's my middle name?" Avery asked, lazily stroking her belly.

"Exactly."

"Nicole Taylor LaMontagne…" Henry tested. "It…it just doesn't _flow_ as well as Taylor Nicole does," he said almost sheepishly.

Avery gazed at him for a long moment, contemplating both names. Then, she sighed. "I hate to say it, but you're right."

His face lit up. "So, we can call her -"

"As long as she goes by Nicole," the girl insisted.

"Of course," Henry replied eagerly.

"Then it's settled." Avery bit back her grin, but her sparkling eyes proved her love for the man beside her.

Emily gave her daughter a watery smile. "You're going to be such a wonderful mother, sweetheart," she said softly, echoing Jack's earlier statement.

"Well, what can I say?" Avery let her previously small smile blossom. "I was raised quite well. By the best, I'd argue."

Hotch kissed Emily on the cheek then, and despite the innumerable times the small action had been done before, she found a blush slowly creeping up her neck…

~.~.~

Slowly opening her eyes, a beautiful lethargy swimming in the two dark pools, Emily let her lips curve upwards as she saw Hotch gazing at her. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," he responded just as quietly, moving in for a gentle, chaste kiss and chuckling as she ardently deepened it. Pulling back only after oxygen became a necessity, he touched a finger to her full cupid's bow. "What's putting such a pretty smile on your face?" he crooned curiously.

"I was dreaming…"

He nuzzled her neck. "About?"

"You."

Hotch felt his heart leap as he took another long look at her. _It's been such a long time since she last smiled…_ "What about me?" he prodded inquisitively.

"Well, actually, it was more about you _and_ me…and Jack and Avery…" She let out a musical laugh that soothed his soul, "We were in our late sixties, early seventies. Jack had gotten married and had two…two _gorgeous_ twin boys."

"And Avery?" Hotch asked, smiling.

Emily's smile grew. "She and Henry were married."

"Henry? As in, JJ and Will's son, Henry?" His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I've always known that boy was smitten with her…"

She nodded. "And she…she was pregnant. With a baby girl." _Taylor Nicole LaMontagne. _"Everything was so perfect. And…it just felt _so_ real. I just hope that…that one day, I'll actually be able to see it happen," she added, lowering her voice until he could barely make out her words.

"You will," Hotch promised.

Emily fell silent for a while, before tracing the lines of his forehead with a light finger. Then, "You're going to be a pretty handsome senior citizen," she informed, pushing all thoughts of moments she may or may not experience out of her mind and giving him a full-on grin.

"Oh, God." Hotch barked out a laugh. "I didn't have too many wrinkles, did I?"

"Not _too_ many." Emily was rising up to give him another kiss when something resting on her pillow finally caught her eye.

She gasped.

The familiar red hair, pale cheeks, triangle nose…the royal blue and white frock and the candy cane-striped stockings…

Memories came flooding forward. A petite brown-haired girl tucking Raggedy Ann in her backpack for her first day at another day at yet another new school. The same girl in her daddy's arms, being swung around in circles as she held on to that loved doll for dear life…

_"Oh my God, Aaron." _One hand was covering her mouth in pleasant surprise. "How did you know?"

Hotch gently stroked the silken smooth skin of her jaw. "Your parents came over yesterday." Taking note of the expression that briefly flitted across her features, and the question she was surely about to ask, he added, "I didn't wake you up because you were _exhausted_, honey. It was the first time in weeks that you've slept for the entire night. There was no way I was interrupting that," he said gently.

"I understand," she said with a small reassuring smile. She nodded. "Continue."

He did. "Well, your father and I had a very…deep conversation. He told me some stories about you when you were a little girl. He told me about how you were attached to a certain doll…how Raggedy Ann never failed to make you smile. So, I searched and searched to find you one, and…" he tenderly touched her awe-struck smile, "this one smile makes it worth every hour and penny I spent."

Emily's eyes were sparkling when they locked onto his. "My dad used to tell me that Raggedy Ann was the only doll with a heart; that's what it said on the box when he first gave her to me. He…he would tell me that even when I was going through the worst hardships, she would _always_ love me. You…" She shook her head. "You…"

"I will _always_ love you, sweetheart," he said sincerely. "I will _always _be here for you."

She burrowed into his chest, eventually resting her hands atop his strongly beating heart. "I know." Their lips met in an affectionate whisper. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, Emmy. Absolutely anything."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Refreshing break, right? Please drop me a line and tell me what you think; I always love hearing from you. Not only that, I always want to improve and your lovely reviews make me do just that! <strong>**Also, nominations are open for the 2011 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards (see information below), and please spare me and my stories a thought or two when nominating. Thank you in advance!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Nominations are open for the 2011 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>_

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction. net/topic/74868/48350094/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories, complete or in-progress, (such as this one!) **_**updated**_** between Sep. 1st, 2010, and Aug. 31st, 2011, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**


	10. Scissors

**Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed the previous chapter's refreshing break. I wish I could say the same for this chapter, but as you'll see, Emily pays Doctor Haynes a visit for her very first chemotherapy session, and afterward, she asks of Hotch a very intimate favor...**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Mommy?"<p>

Emily turned to face her daughter as she pulled on a loose, pale blue sweater. "Yes, Avery?"

"Where are you and Daddy going?"

"Grandpa and grandma are taking us out for breakfast, sweetheart," she answered, smiling a bit as Hotch brushed past her, a pair of mismatched socks on his feet.

"Oh." Avery paused for a quick second. "Jack and I were wondering if we could come, too."

"I -"

"Sure you can, pumpkin." It was Hotch who answered this time. "But you and your brother need to hurry up and get dressed, because grandma and grandpa are already waiting in the living room, and we don't want to be impolite by taking too long, okay?"

"Okay!" And the girl dashed off.

When all was quiet, Emily finally spoke. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Hotch looked at her curiously. "What's not a good idea?"

"Bringing Avery and Jack with us."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Why not?"

"We're not coming back home after breakfast," she explained.

"…And?"

Emily let out an exasperated sigh. "We're going to the hospital after breakfast, remember? For my first chemotherapy and radiation session?"

Hotch was still not grasping her point. "I remember…"

She huffed. "I don't want them to come to the hospital, Aaron."

Realization dawned on him. "Oh, Em -"

_"No. _You've already insisted on coming with me, and so have my parents. I don't exactly think that Doctor Haynes will take kindly to me bringing _five_ people into the clinic with me just for support," she argued.

"Well, Jack and Avery can -"

"And don't even say that they can stay in the waiting room unsupervised," Emily snapped. "Damn it, Aaron, don't you see? I _don't _want them to see me like that!" she yelled.

The entire house was cloaked in silence.

"Oh my God," she whimpered mere seconds later. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, I swear."

Hotch shook his head. "Don't apologize. I understand." He held out his arms. "Come here."

Emily slowly melted into his tight hug. "I just…I don't want them to have to see me poked and prodded with needles and...and God knows what else. That's not something anyone should have to experience." She fisted the cool material of his shirt in her hands and held him closer. "God, I'm so tense right now," she mumbled against his broad shoulder.

"I understand," he repeated. "And hey, I shouldn't have questioned you. You're right; they don't have to come. I'll go talk to Louise, okay?"

"Okay." He was halfway out the door when she stopped him. "And Aaron?"

"Yes?"

Their eyes met. "You're wearing two different socks."

Glancing down at his feet, he barked out a quick laugh. "Wow. I'm just going to pretend I did that on purpose." Pulling one off, he made his way back to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for telling me and not letting me look like a fool later on."

Her lips lifted at the corners. "You're welcome." Again, as he was walking towards the door, her voice ringing out in the otherwise quiet room stopped him. "I love you."

A tender smile curved his lips. "I love you, too."

~.~.~

"Tamoxifen, cyclophosphamide, and what?"

"Doxorubicin," Doctor Haynes said, in a means of answering his patient.

Emily nodded slowly. "And how long will it take?"

"Well, you will be undergoing radiation treatments every day for the next six weeks, but those only take a couple minutes. The chemo, on the other hand, can only be administered once every three weeks, so that will take approximately,.." he did the math, "eighteen weeks."

"Eighteen weeks," she echoed numbly as Hotch gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "Okay."

"Okay? You ready to begin?"

_Ready? Of course not, Doctor Haynes. _"Yes."

"Alright." He was preparing the syringe when Richard spoke.

"What sort of side effects accompany this particular…what did you call it? 'Chemo cocktail'?"

"It really depends on the person, Mr. Prentiss. I've had patients who go through chemo like a breeze, and experience nothing but lethargy; which is common, because the radiation affects both healthy and cancerous cells. The healthy ones grow back, of course…it just takes a while. Thus, the lethargy." Haynes thought back to his previous patients. "Skin irritations are common, too, more so with fair-skinned or," he cleared his throat in a very awkward, Reid-like fashion, "large-breasted women. The irritations generally hold off until the second or third week of treatment and range from mild redness to a feeling of heaviness to burns that require a temporary suspension in treatment." He glanced at Emily, who had a wary expression on her face. "So, those are really the only main side effects." There was a pause. "Well…then, of course, the alopecia. The hair loss…"

Emily didn't want to think about it. "Let's just get this over with."

"Certainly."

The last thing she felt before the prick of the needle was Elizabeth Prentiss taking her hand in hers…and for the first time in close to thirty years, Emily felt her worries slip away in a manner that only a mother could deliver.

~.~.~

_**Three weeks later... **_

"Hey."

Peering into the depths of the wall-length mirror in their master bathroom, Emily met his gaze. "Hey."

Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, Hotch placed his chin on her left shoulder. "You okay?"

"I really wish people would stop asking me that."

"Oh. Right." He kissed her cheek before shooting her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, it's a habit. What's up?" he asked instead.

"I was just thinking about something Doctor Haynes said at yesterday's radiation session," she divulged almost grimly.

"About your second chemotherapy treatment? Isn't it tomorrow?"

She shook her head. "No, not that." She shut her eyes. "About how I'll be losing my hair soon."

He felt his heart being torn to pieces. "Oh, sweetheart…"

"He recommended that I trim it beforehand, since alopecia will cause hair to thin and then come out in uneven patches, and…and he said it would be much less shocking to have short clumps of hair fall out than a handful of long strands," she said in a monotonous, emotionless tone. Slowly, she turned to face him. "Would you?"

It was then that Hotch noticed the gleaming pair of scissors in her hand. "You want me to…"

"Yes."

He was momentarily stunned. "I…I'm no artist, Emily," he managed.

"I don't care," she responded in a whisper. "I don't want anyone to do it but you, Aaron."

Unable to deny his love of a single request, Hotch eventually took the scissors from her and looked at her intently. "How short do you want it?" he asked thickly, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Emily glanced back at her reflection. "Maybe…maybe chin-length?"

He said nothing, just nodded and brought the twin blades to her beautiful locks. _I'm sorry_, he thought loudly.

And then he delivered the first cut.

_Snip._

_Snip._

_Snip._

Emily let out a trembling sigh as she felt a good six or seven inches of her tresses disengage and fall off her shoulders to the unforgiving tile floor.

_Snip._

_Snip._

"Aaron?"

His hand immediately stilled as he heard her voice waver. "Emily?"

Slowly turning to face him, she downcast her gaze to his frowning lips. They were so close to each other; face to face, chest to chest…it was the most of intimate of acts, and in result, her eyes glistened with tears that stubbornly refused to be shed.

"Hey," he said softly. "Honey…"

Diminishing the remaining inch between them, she let her lips move against his in a kiss so passionate and emotional she was sure her heart would burst.

"Em -"

_"Shhh."_ Her hand moved to cup the back of his neck and pull him closer. They stayed like that for several minutes, lips locked, limbs intertwined, hearts beating wildly for each other and _only_ each other.

Finally, Emily drew back, her cheeks flushed prettily. "I needed that," she murmured sheepishly. "Sorry."

He caressed the side of her face. "Don't ever apologize for something like that," he said with a handsome smile.

She brought a hand up to feel the ends of her newly-cut hair. _It's so different…_

"I'm…I'm almost finished," he said a beat later. His voice was solemnly silent. "I just have to cut this last piece…"

Emily gazed at him unwaveringly as he fingered the remaining lock of long, straight hair. "Okay."

"Okay?" She nodded. "Okay."

And then, the scissors were back.

_Snip._

_Snip._

_Snip._

At last, she spun to face the mirror once more, staring with unseeing eyes at the different woman looking back at her. To his credit, Hotch had trimmed it perfectly straight. But it was too blunt. Too stark.

_Too short._

"You look beautiful."

"I look awful."

He shook his head. "I've never seen you with hair this length before." He pressed a line of kisses down her newly exposed nape. "I like it."

"I look awful," she said again, quieter, more wounded this time.

"No…"

Drowning out the sound of his low, warm voice, Emily looked into the eyes of her reflection for one semblance of familiarity. But there was nothing.

Nothing but the derisive voice in the back of her thoughts that seemed to be saying, _"Welcome to your new life…"_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for reading, and if you have the time, <em>please<em> leave me a review and tell me how I did; your feedback is the best belated birthday present I could ask for! **Also, nominations are now open for the 2011 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards (see information below), and if you could spare me and my stories a thought or two when nominating, I would forever be indebted to you. Really, it means the world to me. Thank you in advance!****

* * *

><p><strong><em><strong>~*~ Profiler's Choice 2011 Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds Community ~*~<strong>_**

**Nominations are now open! ****Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction. net/topic/74868/48350094/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2010, and Aug. 31st, 2011, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**


	11. Synthetic

**Author's Note: Before introducing this next chapter, I would just like to give a huge thank you to quintissentially, Tiger. Lily .757, Cellzo, HGRHfan35, MeGkAtHeRiNe, Pise7en, sarweber22, ninninrks, Hailey9989, teamprentiss, and HPforever-after and all of my other incredible readers for your continued support and feedback. I appreciate it so much.  
>Anyway, sorry for the wait on this installment. I've been struck by a nasty bout of writer's block, but nonetheless, I sure hope you will enjoy reading this next loop in the emotional roller-coaster of 'Fade to Black.'<strong>

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"So, Emily, how do you feel?"<p>

Emily studied the oncologist carefully. "Not…too bad. That isn't to say I feel _good_," she added as an afterthought, "but so far, the only inconvenience is the fatigue."

Doctor Haynes nodded, took some notes. "No burning or redness on your left breast?"

"None." There was a pause. "Actually, it is a little bit tender, but…it's nothing drastic." _I hope. _Haynes's pen ran a hurried scrawl across the notepad. "Oh, and…" She rolled up her sleeve. On the inside of her elbow was a slight skin discoloration. "I've noticed some…" she trailed away, searching for the right term.

"Flaking?" This time, it was Emily's turn to nod. "That _and_ discoloration on the injection site is perfectly normal," Haynes assured, and out of the corner of his eye, Hotch saw her breathe a tiny sigh of relief. "Before you leave today, I"ll give you an aloe vera balm to soothe the itchiness."

"Thank you."

Doctor Haynes smiled. "And now, onto the good news. Yes, today may only be your second chemotherapy session, and yes, that does mean that you still have four more -"

"- which is twelve more weeks," Emily interjected.

"Yes. _But_ you only have one more week of radiation left." He observed her cordially. "How does that sound?"

Slowly, her lips curved upwards as she and Hotch shared a fleeting glance. "I think that sounds pretty great," Emily said quietly.

Haynes flipped through her patient file. "I agree. And…" he looked up at her, "I see you cut your hair."

She swallowed thickly. "I did."

"Good, good. It's a good look on you."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her," Hotch interjected, squeezing her hand affectionately. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Emily turned briefly to face him, her eyes glistening, then immediately faced away.

Clearing his throat quietly, Haynes picked at his fingernails almost nervously; alopecia was never his favorite topic of discussion. "Now, tell me, Emily…have you noticed any slight hair loss yet?"

She met his gaze. "No," she said, her voice suddenly hoarse. "At least…not any more than usual."

"And when you say that, you mean…"

"Nothing more than the occasional strands of hair that I lose to my brush or shower."

Again, he nodded. "Any hair on your pillow when you wake up in the morning?"

"No…"

But she stopped, thinking back that morning and the one before.

It was a while before she answered again. "Yes."

Folding his hands in his lap, Haynes looked at her empathetically, and for a split second, Emily's fists clenched at the pity she saw written on his face. "How much?"

"Not more than four or five strands." She sighed when Hotch brought their intertwined hands to his lips. "It's starting, isn't it?"

Haynes's mouth formed a slight frown. "I'm afraid so."

The three were silent.

Until, once again, the oncologist spoke. "Are you ready to begin?"

Emily's gaze travelled to the sterilized syringes and vials containing her 'chemo cocktail'. She swallowed thickly. "Please."

Right before the now-familiar prick of the needle, Emily's eyes focused on every line and every nuance of Hotch's face, burning it into memory for the lonely hours of radiation to follow.

"I love you," she watched her husband mouth.

"I love you, too."

~.~.~

Emily filled her lungs with as much air as she possibly could as their master bathroom was filed with the musky, seductive smell of Hotch's body wash; she breathed in so much air, in fact, that for a brief moment, multi-colored stars clouded her vision.

"So…Jack and Avery's school is organizing a 'pink-out'," he said conversationally, raising his voice enough to be heard over the running shower.

Staring at her reflection with unflinching eyes as she lazily ran a brush through her hair, Emily's previously tensed expression softened. "Oh. That's nice."

"It is," he agreed. "Each student is going to pay a couple dollars for a pink, breast cancer awareness tee-shirt, and all the money the school raises with the shirts will be donated to the Susan G. Komen foundation."

Her shoulders shook as she coughed, the whooping sound echoing in the room. "Mm-hmm…"

"And Em," Hotch said gently, watching her through the fogged-up shower door as he ran a hand over the painfully corded muscles in his neck, "they…they want to give the donation in your name."

A tiny, trembling sigh passed her lips. "Really?" she asked quietly.

He gave her a tender smile that she didn't see. "Really. In fact, Jack's teacher actually asked me if -"

But the rest of his statement was cut off by the sound of a loud gasp being torn from his wife's throat.

Wiping his hand over the door in order to clear it of the misty haze, Hotch's gaze focused on Emily just in time to see a hand fly up and cover her mouth in shock.

Her brush clattered to the floor.

"Emily?"

He received no answer.

Hotch immediately shut off the running water. Grabbing a towel from the nearby rack and wrapping it tightly around his waist, he stepped out of the shower. "Sweetheart, what happened - _oh_."

There, at her feet, was a lock of more than a dozen strands of hair.

Emily was shaking. "I…I was just brushing my hair, a-and…" she hiccuped, "and I don't know if I tugged too much, but it just…it just…" She coughed some more, then trailed off with broken sobs.

He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder. "Shhh. Emily. Sweetheart..."

Letting a moan escape, she spun around and buried her face in his slightly damp chest. _"Aaron."_

Holding her to him as tightly as possible, he smoothed back her bangs and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's not so bad, Em," he tried reassuring.

"Not so bad?" she echoed darkly, pulling away from his embrace. Turning her back to him, she refaced the mirror and brought a hand to her tresses once more. Grabbing a handful in a fist, she tugged…

…and whimpered as the strands detached from her scalp with little resistance.

"Emily…don't do this. Let it fall out naturally," Hotch said in a soothing, quiet tone, his heart slowly breaking.

_"Not so bad?" _she quoted again. "This is 'not so bad'?"

"Sweetheart, I -"

"No, Aaron. Just _stop._ You have no idea what I'm going through!" By now, fat tears were rolling down her cheeks. "No idea! I used to be able to look in the mirror and imagine myself as a cancer-free woman. I _just_ got used to the chin-length haircut. But now?" She whipped around and met his gaze. "The one vestige of my femininity that I could truly hold on to in this time was my hair, and now that's as good as gone. _Gone! _How would you feel if you were slowly but surely becoming synthetic? That's what I am, that's what all of this is!" She was outright shaking now, her shoulders wracking with violent sobs. "Now I really do look like I'm dying."

Hotch's eyes widened in panic. "You're not dying," he said for what seemed to be the thousandth time. "You're so strong, Emily. Stronger than I could ever be."

_"I'm dying!"_ She let out a wail of frustration that rang out sharply in the spacious bathroom. "You tell me, Aaron Hotchner," she spat out viciously, "you tell me…would a healthy woman be able to do this?" She yanked out a thick lock of hair. "Or this?" Another lock. "Or this?" And another. "Or -"

He closed his hands around her wrists and brought them behind her back. "_Don't,_ Emily. Please. You're torturing yourself."

Pulling her hands out of his grip, she glared at him, her chest heaving violently with each unsteady breath. "Leave me alone," she said lowly.

That was all it took; the first tear made its somber descent down Hotch's cheek. "Sweetheart…I didn't mean it that way. Please…"

Emily sniffled, her red-rimmed eyes dropping from his face and glancing towards her disheveled reflection in the mirror. She motioned towards the door. "Just go."

And even though every cell in his body was screaming at him to stay behind, to pull her close and give her the world, Hotch gave Emily a curt nod and reluctantly left her to herself, not seeing how she sunk to the ground as soon as the door swung shut behind him, and cried out in anger, tearing at her hair all the while.

~.~.~

Softly padding into their bedroom, Emily felt her heart give a little flutter at the sight before her.

Hotch was lying in bed, fast asleep, a dog-eared book face down on his lap, and his mouth slightly parted. In slumber, the usually pronounced lines on his face were lax, serene. Peaceful.

Almost…untouched.

Silently climbing into the bed and turning off the table lamp that had previously been emitting a comfortably warm glow, Emily was burrowing into the cool cotton sheets when she heard his telltale low rumble.

"Emily."

Even in the moonlit darkness, they sought each other's gaze. "Hi," she whispered.

He swallowed thickly. "Hi." Her eyes fell closed as he trailed a finger down her cheek, along her jaw, under her chin. "We haven't talked all day," he said with a tinge of sadness.

"That's my fault."

Hotch shook his head. "No, sweetheart -"

She frowned. "I've been such a bitch to you -"

"Emily! Don't you dare say that," he instantly interjected. "You are going through _so_ much right now," he added, softer this time. "Nothing you say will offend me or hurt my feelings, because I know that you are simply voicing your frustration. This cancer? It isn't fair. Not at all. And I understand that," he assured.

"Do you?" Emily asked weakly.

Hotch kissed her fingertips, one by one, before lacing their hands together and placing them atop her heart. "I do." He gave her a watery smile. "And you know what?" With a feather-light touch, he ran his hand over her head, bare except for the tiniest smattering of ebony fuzz. "I think you look absolutely adorable."

Worrying away at her bottom lip, she cocked a speculative eyebrow. "Oh, _come on_, Aaron…"

"I'm being serious," he insisted. "What I said earlier this afternoon, about it not being so bad…I was referring to your appearance, not your struggles. Because, face it, Emily Hotchner…hair or no hair, you're still the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on."

Feeling another wave of tears coming, Emily let a slow smile touch her lips before she leaned in for a slow yet bone-melting, lovely kiss. "Are you going back to sleep?" she murmured against his skin.

Hotch held her close as she snuggled in closer. "In an hour or two, maybe; I have some things to do. But you…you need your rest."

"Yes, Doctor," she quipped tiredly, her eyes already heavy.

He chuckled then hummed quietly, lulling her into a pleasant slumber. "Good night."

"Mmm…'night." She paused, then sighed. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_. Now close your eyes." He laid light kisses on both of her eyelids. "Sleep, my love," he crooned. "I'm not going anywhere."

~.~.~

"Daddy?"

Surprised, Hotch turned around to see Avery beside him, a glass of cold water in her hands. "Ave. Why are you still awake? It's pretty late, sweetheart."

She motioned to the glass. "I was thirsty."

"Alright. But hurry up, okay?" he said gently. "You have school tomorrow."

Avery nodded. "I know. I'm almost done." She was silent for a while, watching her father work, then… "Daddy?"

"Yes, Avery?"

"Can I get a haircut?" she asked, unconsciously swaying from side to side.

Hotch smiled slightly. "Of course. How short do you want it?"

"Like…like Mommy's?"

Hotch instinctively froze at the suggestion. _Oh my God. _"I…ummm…" He cleared his throat. "You mean like how I cut Mommy's hair? Chin-length?"

Avery shook her head, just as Hotch had predicted she would. "No, no…like how Mommy cut her hair _now_."

He shut his eyes. _She's just so innocent._ "Sweetheart…Mommy didn't cut her hair. It fell out because of her cancer."

A tense silence passed before the meaning of her father's words truly sunk in. "…Oh."

"So, I…I really don't think she'd want you to cut your hair like hers," he said quietly. "Do you understand why?"

The young girl shifted from one foot to the other, then glanced up from her intertwined hands to meet Hotch's questioning gaze. "I…I think so."

"I know for a fact that Mommy wants you to keep your beautiful hair and grow it really long." He tried for a smile. "You know how much she likes braiding your hair, don't you?"

She smiled back. "Yeah." Slowly, her smile faded. "But…I dunno, I just wanted me and Mommy to match. To make her get well sooner."

Kneeling to her height, Hotch left a light kiss on his daughter's forehead. "And I understand that. But maybe we should think of other ways that you and Mommy can be matching, alright?"

"Mm-hmm," Avery eventually responded, only a slight tinge of dejection in her voice.

"Like, say…" he quickly brainstormed, "maybe this weekend, we can all go shopping and I'll buy both you and your mom a _really_ pretty dress. How about that?"

Seriously contemplating the idea for a while, Avery was quick to relent. "We can?"

"Definitely. And I'm sure she'd let you pick out the dress for her…"

"Okay." She was outright grinning now. "Can our dresses be pink?"

_Pink_. He chuckled. _Of course. _"Absolutely."

Finishing her late-night glass of water, Avery carefully set it on the kitchen counter before striding towards her father and giving him a long hug. "Thanks, Daddy," she murmured into his broad chest.

"Anything for my two favorite girls."

~.~.~

"Bangs or no bangs?"

Hotch gently traced random patterns over Emily's upturned palm. "Either, sweetheart. You look great in both."

"Aaron," she huffed, her voice rife with exasperation, "you're my _husband. _Surely you have some preference."

He shook his head. "But I don't," he said almost apologetically. "Emily, whichever one you prefer is the one I prefer. You're the one who will be wearing it over the course of the next few weeks. It should be primarily your decision…" he rested his forehead against hers, "not a decision based on whether I like one style or the other."

"So, _do you_ like one style over the other?"

He chuckled. "No."

She rolled her eyes, but gave him a tender smile all the same. "You are_ such _a difficult man, Aaron," she teased with a heavy sigh. Turning to Jack and Avery, she motioned to her three choices of pre-fitted wigs. "What do you guys think?"

"I like this one," Avery said, pointing to the one with bangs and very loose curls.

"Really?" Jack countered. "I like this one more," he said, referring to the one she had just taken off, the wig with bangs and perfectly straight locks…exactly reminiscent of Emily's natural hair.

"Apparently, the consensus is something with bangs, so that puts this one of out the question," Emily noted, peeling off the one she had been trying on at that same moment, and replacing it with the one Jack had suggested, her general abhorrence of wigs causing her hand to burn where it had clutched the synthetic material. "I think I'm leaning towards this one…purely because it's a look I'm familiar with," she added quietly, so quietly that only Hotch heard her.

"Besides, you could always use curlers with this wig for styling," Hotch interjected, directing the comment more towards Avery, who seemed a bit more assuaged at the news.

"That's a good point." Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Emily fit the straight-haired wig onto her head and was struck at how…_normal _she looked. Unconsciously, goosebumps erupted on her flesh at the uncanny similarity.

"Well, kids? What do you think?"

At their father's prompt, Avery piped up. "I think you look really pretty, Mommy."

Jack grinned. "You do look nice."

She gave them both brief, yet heartfelt hugs. "Thank you. Both of you." Rising to her full height, she locked gazes with Hotch. "And you, Aaron? What do you think?"

Hotch licked his dry lips, then cleared his throat. Remembering what she had said just days before, his voice was husky when he spoke. "You look like a cancer-free woman."

A tender, emotion-filled silence blossomed.

Avery suddenly beamed. "Now we can go dress-shopping!"

"Dress-shopping?" both Jack and Emily asked in unison, the latter still gazing into her husband's eyes and sharing the intimate moment.

Hotch chuckled, causing Emily to raise a curious eyebrow and accurately guess the origin of Avery's conversation thread. "Aaron, I have plenty of dresses," Emily clucked. "Just get Avery one, and…whatever Jack wants," she said, glancing over at her son with an amused expression on her face.

"Sure, you have plenty of dresses, but I think you need a new one," Hotch said, smirking. "Besides, your daughter explicitly told me that she wanted you and her to have something matching, and this was the first thing I could think of. _And_," he added with finality, smiling as he toyed with her slender fingers, "what would you wear for our date tomorrow?"

"Daddy, you can't date Mommy; you're already married!"

A slow smile creeping across Emily's full red lips, she echoed, "Our date? And…when exactly did we plan said date?"

An unexpected laugh slipped past Hotch's lips. "Just now," he admitted.

"Hmmm. A surprise, then?"

"Maybe," he responded coyly.

"I'll take that as a yes." She kissed him on the cheek. "Good. Because I love surprises. And…well, I officially cannot wait for this one."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for reading, and if you have the time, <em>please<em> leave me a review and tell me how I did; your feedback is always something I look forward to hearing/reading! I always strive to be better at writing, and I can only do that with your help. **Also, THE DEADLINE FOR THE 2011 ANNUAL PROFILER'S CHOICE AWARDS ****(see information below) ********NOMINATIONS IS OCTOBER 15TH. I cannot even begin to explain to you all how much it would mean to me i****f you could spare me and my stories a thought or two when nominating. Not only would I forever be indebted to you, but it would be the best gift in the world. Really. Thank you in advance!****

* * *

><p><strong><em><strong>~*~ Profiler's Choice 2011 Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds Community ~*~<strong>_**

**Nominations are now open! ****Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction. net/topic/74868/48350094/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2010, and Aug. 31st (such as this one!), 2011, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**


	12. Precious Metals

**Author's Note: As requested, this chapter has more team member interaction; or rather, interaction in the form of a girls' night out. And of course, I've included Emily and Hotch's special date, and the dress Avery and Jack chose for her to wear...  
>As always, thanks a million for reading!<strong>

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Mmmm…let me go, Aaron," Emily laughed breathily.<p>

"No," he murmured against the back of her neck. "I don't want you to go."

Turning around in his arms, she cupped his cheek. "I know you don't. But JJ and Penelope are waiting for me outside, and you _know_ how long I've been waiting for our girls' night out. Honestly, I've really needed their company."

Hotch nodded in understanding but still gave it one more try. "But what am I supposed to do while you're gone?" he practically whined, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Hmmm? I'm going to miss you too much, sweetheart."

"And I'm going to miss you, too," Emily said in return. "But as for what you'll do when I'm gone…you'll catch up on your work. You'll read the paper, relax your mind, and take care of the kids. And most especially," she smiled, "you're going to make yourself _even more_ handsome in preparation for our special date tonight."

At that, Hotch couldn't help but smile as well. "Okay," he finally relented, releasing her from his tight embrace and chuckling as she stumbled a little. "But don't stay out too late."

She grinned. "Alright, _Dad._"

"Oh, hush. I'm not _that_ old."

~.~.~

"I know you are going to kill me for asking this, but…are you okay? How are you really feeling, Em?"

Emily picked at her tasteless lunch for a silent minute before glancing up at the two blondes. "I'm…I'm okay. Really. I'm coping." Her gaze dropped back to her hands. "Of course, there are some days when I get sick to my stomach and can't stop throwing up, or that I'm so exhausted that I can't do anything and my entire day goes to waste. And I hate those days. But…but there are other days, when the symptoms are minimal, that I feel like the luckiest woman in the world because I have the two sweetest children and a husband who would - and _has _- dropped everything he's doing just to care for me."

JJ smiled. "He loves you. Really truly loves you."

Emily took Penelope's outstretched hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah," she whispered. "And I love him, too." She swallowed thickly. "Aaron, he…he makes sure to tell me each and every day that I am the strongest woman he's ever met. But in comparison to him…_he's _the strong one. God forbid, if the roles were reversed and he was the one with cancer, I would be a _wreck_. I wouldn't know what to do. But Aaron…" Her voice broke and trailed away.

"Now he's working out of your home, isn't he?" Penelope asked, donning a soft smile.

Emily coughed into the crook of her arm, then nodded. "He's been with me, by my side, every single day since I was diagnosed. He's been to every single radiation and chemotherapy treatment, every doctor's appointment…he even wanted to come back with me for my lumpectomy, but I didn't want him to see me like that." She shook her head idly, the tresses of her wig swooshing back and forth. "If I survive this -"

"_When_ you survive this," both JJ and Penelope interrupted.

"When I survive this," Emily amended, "I know it will be mostly because of his support. And…I don't know how to repay that."

"He's your rock, Em," JJ said knowingly. "He doesn't want anything but your health and safety in return."

"I know…but that seems so lacking on my part. When you have breast cancer, the lumpectomy, the alopecia…it's almost like you've lost part of your femininity. But Aaron's made me feel like a woman again."

Penelope was getting tearful. "You deserve it."

Emily nodded again, then let out a little laugh. "I don't want to sound corny, but…we're one of those sickening, best-friend married couples. The let's-die-at-the-exact-same-moment, Romeo-and-Juliet soul mates. We're so much in love," she added, her voice barely audible, "and I don't know who I'd be, or…or what I'd do without him." There was a tender pause before she laughed again, wiping the tears she hadn't even known were escaping with a tissue JJ handed her. "But enough about me. We're not going to talk about me, or about cancer anymore. No, we're going to gossip about good things, and go shopping, and have fun, without analytical minds or heavy hearts. Okay?"

Both blondes had radiant smiles on their faces at Emily's sudden energy. "Okay."

"You finished with your lunch?" Penelope asked.

Emily glanced at the Chinese food in front of her, then back at her friend. "Yeah, I am," she said, coughing.

JJ frowned. "Em, you hardly ate anything."

"I-I'm not hungry." Picking up her tray, she stood and moved to throw it away…then almost fell over.

"Are you okay?" Penelope's shocked voice rang out above all others.

_Guess I can add vertigo to my steadily growing list of symptoms,_ Emily thought to herself ruefully. "Yeah, I'll be fine," she said instead, appreciatively patting the arms of her friends that had steadied her. "Let's go."

~.~.~

"Oh, this jacket is _cute_," JJ exclaimed, pulling a teal, double-breasted coat off the rack. "What do you think, Emily?"

"That is cute," she agreed, setting down her two shopping bags - one with a brand new pair of boots, and the other with a gift for Hotch - on a nearby chair. "What other colors are there?"

Penelope riffled through the rack right next to JJ's. "There's a black one, a whitish-cream colored one…ooooh, and they have one that's a deep burgundy color and would look amazing on you! _Try it on_!" she nearly screamed.

Emily laughed. "Okay, okay, I will. Depending on the price, I will," she added a moment later.

"It's on sale," JJ said in a singsong voice.

"Right as winter's approaching, too," Penelope said convincingly.

Taking the coat off its sturdy wooden hanger, she shrugged it on and turned to face her friends. "Okay…what do you think?"

"Oh my God. It looks _amazing _on you," Penelope gushed, practically shoving her towards the mirror on the opposite wall. "Look!"

Emily turned from side to side, observing the coat's appealing fit. "I like it," she said almost to herself.

"You should really buy it," JJ said, grinning.

"I don't know…I might, if I can't find anything else I like."

"Or you could get the coat and whatever else you like," Penelope said eagerly.

Again, Emily laughed until her stomach hurt, forcing back a painful coughing fit. "I wish, but unfortunately, I don't exactly have an inexhaustible amount of money," she said logically.

"So, let me buy the coat for you, and then you can get whatever else you want," JJ said sweetly, a smile hinting at her lips as she shrugged gracefully. "Consider it an…early birthday present."

"_No._ Absolutely not," Emily said adamantly. "You already paid for lunch. You guys are spoiling me, and yes, I love you to death for it, but I don't want you to spend any more money on me than you already have." A beat passed. "Your company is enough," she said truthfully.

Penelope smiled and enveloped Emily into a bone-crushing hug. "Why are you so sweet?"

"It's part of my irresistible charm, I guess," Emily quipped teasingly. "But seriously. You two are the best friends I could ever have. Even though we don't see each other on a regular basis, like we used to, I always enjoy spending time with you because you never fail to make me smile. To be honest, I haven't laughed this much in months. And that means a lot."

JJ joined in on the hug. "It's the least we could do, Emily. _You_ mean a lot to us."

"So much," Penelope agreed. There was a brief pause. "But you have to buy that coat, Emily."

Emily laughed. "Alright, if you insist."

_"I do!"_

Smiling to herself as her two friends began fawning over yet another fashionable coat that JJ found, Emily looped the burgundy jacket over her arm and walked to another display, this time of stylish silk scarves. Her gaze running over a lavender and white patterned one, and one with a pink floral pattern, she found herself fingering a pale yellow scarf at the very end of the rack, running the cool material through her fingers. _I wonder if..._

She was tying it around her head when JJ came striding over. "There you are. Pen and I were wondering where you have wandered off to."

Emily said nothing in response, just smiled and carefully observed her reflection in the mirror.

Taking a wild guess as to what was running through the brunette's mind, JJ placed a hand on Emily's arm. "Hey," she said, sobering a bit. "You don't need that."

"What?"

JJ untied the knot under her chin, and let the scarf slide off onto Emily's shoulders. "You don't need it," she repeated. "Emily, I'm a profiler, too, you know. You've been picking at your wig for the entire day."

"Have I?" Emily asked quietly. "Oh. I didn't realize it."

JJ gave her a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about it. Really. When Pen and I picked you up at your house, I almost forgot that you had lost your hair. I'm _serious_, Em," she said at Emily's skeptical expression. "No one can tell that you're wearing a wig. You look great, Emily. You look…healthy. Normal."

_Normal._ The word reverberated in Emily's ears and traveled through to her core. Letting out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding, she gave the pretty blonde a watery smile. "You think so?"

"I do," JJ answered, nodding.

Emily bit her bottom lip, then embraced JJ. "Thank you."

"It's what I'm here for."

And just like that, the scarf was long forgotten.

~.~.~

"I had a great time with you both. Really," Emily said, stepping out of the car.

"We're glad," Penelope said, smiling as Emily began walking towards the door to her and Hotch's house.

"We need to do this again sometime, alright? Preferably sometime soon," JJ said, her eyes sparkling.

"Definitely," Emily agreed wholeheartedly. "And you know, I'd invite you both in, but…"

"But you and Hotch have a little date tonight," Penelope cut in astutely. "We know," she added with a wink.

Emily chuckled. "Something like that." Her hand was on the doorknob now. "I'll…give you both a call tomorrow?"

"Please do!"

She nodded. "Good night, JJ, Pen. You guys are the best."

"Good night, Em."

And then, with a wave farewell, they drove off.

Figuring that Avery - if not Jack, as well - would already be asleep, Emily opted for her key instead of easily ringing the doorbell. Stepping inside the comfortable confines of their house, Emily set her bags down by her feet. "Aaron?" she called out quietly, shutting the door behind her. "I'm home..."

Before she could even process the action, his arms were around her, pulling her as close to him as possible, and his lips were caressing hers in a loving, heartfelt welcome.

Breathless, Emily pulled back to look her husband in the eyes. "_Wow._ If that's the kind of greeting I'm going to get, can I go back out and come through the door again?"

Hotch chuckled against her cheek. "No, you are staying _right_ here." And then he smiled. "So, how was your girls' night out?"

"Amazing, enlightening, refreshing, much-needed, emotional…you name it," she answered, returning his smile.

"I'm glad," Hotch said sincerely. "_But_ now it's time for our date."

It was then that Emily took notice of what he was wearing. A pressed, charcoal grey suit with light, almost invisible silver pinstripes, a blindingly white dress shirt, and a baby pink tie with a slight diamond pattern…

"My, my, don't you look handsome," she practically purred.

Again, he chuckled. "You told me to, so I did. _Now go change,_" he said, giving her a playful shove. "Your dress is on the bed."

~.~.~

_"Wow."_

Emily stepped into the warm yellow light, a sultry yet ultimately sweet smile on her face. "You like it?"

"I do," Hotch said in awe. "When Avery, Jack, and I - primarily Avery, mind you - chose it, I knew you would look stunning in it, but…my God, not _this _stunning." He closed the distance between them, his hands falling to her curvaceous hips. "What about you? Do you like it?" he asked, eager to know the answer. Glancing down at the dress for what seemed to be the hundredth time, Emily's smile grew. The spaghetti strap dress was made of layer after layer of coralish-pink rushed up chiffon, that started off tightly bunched together at the bodice, then flowed, in two sheets, from her waist to an inch above her knees; one sheet of thin, airy satin that acted as a slip, and a secondary layer of chiffon on top of that, providing a fairy-like, ephemeral feel.

She finally nodded. "I love it."

"Good. Avery and Jack will be thrilled to hear that." Then he took her arm. "Now…dinner?"

"I've been waiting for this all day," she said in means of a response.

Hotch smiled at that, then leaned forward to kiss Emily on her forehead. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"That is a very good question."

Her hand in his, he led her to the kitchen, where their dining table was set, with glowing candles of all shapes and sizes, and multicolored rose petals littering the table and floor. The lights were dimmed and familiar music crooned quietly in the background.

Hotch's heart swelled at the sweet, pleasantly surprised gasp that fell from Emily's lips at the sight. Pulling out a chair for her in a very gentlemanly fashion, he waited until she sat before bringing out the food.

"Mmmm…something smells delicious…"

"That's because I made your favorite." He set the plate before her. "Lemon pan-seared tilapia with a side of cilantro. Took me four tries to finally get it perfect."

She licked her lips. "You've really outdone yourself, Aaron," she said, pressing an appreciative kiss against his cheek. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. And of course…" He brandished two wine glasses and an elegantly carved bottle.

"Oh, I…I can't have any alcohol. Doctor's orders," she reminded sheepishly, coughing into the thick napkin that was set in front of her.

He chuckled. "I know." He showed her the label on the bottle.

"Sparkling grape juice?" They locked gazes. "You think of everything, don't you?"

"Of course." Hotch took her hand and kissed it. "Now let's eat."

"Feed me," Emily countered cutely.

"Your wish is my command," he quipped, portioning off a bit of the savory white fish with his fork and holding it out to her. Hotch watched intently as she chewed it, her eyes falling shut in the process. "Well? What do you think? I put a tiny pinch of something special in the fish while it was cooking. You know…as a surprise to see if you would be able to recognize it."

Emily swallowed, her fears coming true as she faked a smile and took another bite, just waiting for the flavor to explode on her tongue…but much to her dismay, it didn't. "Aaron, this is absolutely delicious," she moaned, only a beat too late, her heart breaking as his face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Really? You really like it?"

"Oh, God, yes."

"Now guess the spice," Hotch said, grinning. "It's an easy one, I promise."

Emily took another bite, but still…nothing. "Ummm…" Her voice tightened nervously. "Turmeric?"

Hotch looked at her for a while, reading her like the open book she knew she was to him. His grin morphed into a slight frown. "It's…it's cayenne pepper. Dave recommended it."

"Oh," she said quietly, lamely.

Then he sighed. "You can't taste anything can you?"

Emily's heart shattered at the sadness and disheartenment in his voice. She shook her head reluctantly, almost dejectedly. "No. I can't." She paused, then whimpered quietly at the dismal truth. "Everything tastes like metal. _Everything_."

"For…" he cleared his throat, "for how long?"

"Three days," she divulged, casting her eyes downward. However, in a split second, her eyes had once again met his. "Please don't be mad, or disappointed," she begged, her hand coming up to cup the side of his face "I thought - I _hoped_ - it would go away, and you had put so much time and dedication into making this dinner perfect…"

He turned his head so that he could gently kiss her palm. "I'm not disappointed, and I'm certainly not mad," he assured. "I'm…I'm just sad that you have to go through all of these symptoms and that they're not disappearing."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, the pleading, apologetic look in her deep brown eyes saying more than her words ever could.

"Don't be," he returned kindly, genuinely.

After several minutes of tasteful conversation and tasteless - for Emily, at least - dinner, Hotch rose and guided Emily to their living room.

"Dance with me," he implored huskily.

Communicating her agreement with one smoldering glance, Emily wrapped her arms snugly around his neck and let her body elegantly fall against his. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her against him until there was but an inch separating their bodies. "Did you have a good day today?"

"I did," she replied sincerely. "Thank you. Wh -" she coughed, her body shaking, "what about yours?"

"Today was perfect," he admitted. Then he frowned as she coughed once more. "Emily, sweetheart, are you okay? You've been coughing a lot lately," he noted worriedly.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" He watched as Emily ran her hands over her arms. "Are you cold?"

"A-a little," she shrugged.

"A little? Emily, you're _shivering_," he noted. Hotch immediately took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her svelte, trembling frame. "Here."

_Anemia, too? Good God, what is happening to me? _She managed to smile sheepishly at him. "Thanks," she mumbled before rising on her tiptoes and kissing him with every ounce of gratitude she had in her body.

He smiled against her lips before crooning the lyrics to the song that was currently playing in her ear. _"Oh, my love…my darling. I've hungered for your touch a long lonely time…"_

Realization and recognition dawned on her as she, too, began humming along. "This is our song," she said, her eyes sparkling. "This is the first song we danced to as husband and wife."

He chuckled against the soft skin of her neck. "Why do you think I specifically put in this CD?"

She danced her fingers along his cleanly shaven jaw. "Because you are the most kind-hearted, compassionate, and thoughtful man in the entire world."

"Something like that." She yawned into his shoulder. "You sleepy?" he asked, his voice tender.

"Tired," she mumbled in correction.

He ran a hand along her spine as her head came to rest on his shoulder. "One more dance and we'll go to bed."

She shook her head. "We don't have to."

"I insist."

She peered at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Then one more dance it is."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for reading, and if you have the time, <em>please<em> leave me a review and tell me how you're liking (or even disliking!) the story so far; receiving your feedback and suggestions is always something I look forward to because hearing from you, my amazing readers, never fails to make me a better writer. I aim to please you all. Always. **Also, THE DEADLINE FOR THE 2011 ANNUAL PROFILER'S CHOICE AWARDS ****(see information below) ********NOMINATIONS IS TODAY, OCTOBER 15TH AT 11:59 EDT. I cannot even begin to explain to you all how much it would mean to me i****f you could spare me and my stories a thought or two when nominating. Not only would I forever be indebted to you, but it would be the best gift in the world. Really. Thank you in advance!****

* * *

><p><strong><strong><em><strong>~*~ Profiler's Choice 2011 Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds Community ~*~<strong>_****

**LAST CALL!**

**Nominations are due for the 2011 Profiler's Choice Awards TONIGHT at 11:59 EDT!**

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction. net/topic/74868/48350094/1**

**If you are kind enough to nominate anything I have written, please make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2010, and Aug. 31st (such as this one!), 2011, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**


	13. In the Eyes of the Beholder

**Author's Note: I've had this chapter in my mind for quite some time. It's angsty, it's emotional, it's saddening…yet hopefully, you will be able to see the beauty of it all. I've included some time with Dave in the beginning, for those of you who have been wanting to see some more interaction with various members of the team. And finally, the later half (after the third page break) of this chapter has a slight mature warning. Nothing graphic, I promise. Just very, _very _emotional. I sincerely hope you enjoy.**

**Excerpts are from the book _Stand By Her_, by John W. Anderson.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Emily smiled as she took his outstretched hands in hers. Her gaze lingered on his for a while as the the noises and smells from around them drifted in and out of her mind; freshly ground coffee beans, birds singing, people chattering away quietly to themselves. The small cafe was tucked away at the corner of the street, but it was her favorite place to be. Especially right now, with one of her dearest friends.<p>

"You're sure I can't get you anything to eat or drink?"

"I'm absolutely sure." She squeezed his hands gently. "So…tell me. How are you, Dave?"

David Rossi returned her smile with an aged one of his own. "I've been well. Better than well, actually." Much to Emily's surprise, a slight blush colored the man's cheeks at his admission. "I'm not sure if Aaron told you, but I…I met a girl a while back."

Emily's eyes instantly light up, her smile blossoming as the meaning of his words truly sunk in. "Really?"

He nodded, smiling even wider at her enthusiasm. "And, well…I think she's the one."

"Oh, Dave. That's _wonderful_! How long have you two been together?" she asked, beyond eager to reconnect with the friends she had been so close to in the past, to know everything she had missed.

"Seven months," he answered, just a beat later. "I know it's not a long enough time for some people to find acceptable, but…well, with everything that has happened recently," their eyes met, "I've realized that I don't want to waste a second more of my life. She makes me happy."

Emily was silent, overcome with emotion. "And you think she's the one?" she finally echoed, her voice a tiny bit thick.

It was his turn to give her hands a squeeze. "I plan to propose this week," he divulged, in means of an answer. "Hell, maybe even tomorrow. I don't want to wait any longer."

She bit her lip, then gave him an - almost - watery smile. "I am so happy for you, Dave. Congratulations," she said wholeheartedly.

"Thank you so much, Emily. It means a lot," he admitted.

"It's the least I could do, give you my best wishes," she simply responded. "So, she'll be what, wife number five or six?"

The Italian raised an eyebrow. "Look, let's get our facts straight," Rossi interjected, incredulous even though he knew she was only picking on him. "I only had three wives. I mean, that's within the realm of reasonable!"

She threw her head back and laughed; laughed harder than she had in a while. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help it."

He idly patted her hand. "I know, I know. You haven't changed at all, Emily," he said, then answered her previous question. "God willing, she'll be wife number four."

"I'm sure," Emily assured kindly. "Tell me again…refresh my memory; why did you divorce the other three?"

A faraway look appeared on his face. "It's funny, um…my first wife, Carolyn, was the only one to divorce me; I divorced the others," he said, correcting her statement. "I never truly loved anyone as much as I loved her. Or at least, I never thought I would. Until now. She divorced me because of the job. We had just started the BAU; it took _a lot_ of time and dedication, and time was just something we didn't have an abundance of." He swallowed thickly, falling silent as he remembered Carolyn, and everything they'd had together…and how ALS had taken her away from them much too early. He cleared his throat, then moved on with a slight smile. "Wife number two tried to kill me."

_"What?"_

"Yeah," he replied, chuckling. "You heard me correctly."

"Oh, that's right," Emily suddenly remembered. "She switched your medicine, or something, right?"

He nodded. "Indeed she did. I was hospitalized for a day, and divorced her the next."

"What about wife number three?"

Dave paused, thinking back. "She...she was interesting."

Emily cocked her head to the side. "How so?"

He shook his head ruefully, consumed by the memories. "I married someone other than the woman I had fallen in love with. When we dated, she was the sweetest girl I had ever met; kindhearted, witty, smart, crafty. She knew exactly what I needed and when I needed it. We had always been like that, seemingly connected subconsciously. It was wonderful, fulfilling. But…after the honeymoon, she just_changed._ To this day I still don't know why, butshe made it so that nothing in my life was of any importance except for her. Day after day, she hovered, so much so that I literally had no space to breathe. She always mistrusted me, and thus, became clingy and over-dependent, and…God, it was stifling." He picked at the salad he had bought. "Then, one day, I found out that she was sleeping with our neighbor. It gave me the excuse I needed to divorce her."

For a long moment, Emily couldn't breathe.

_"She made it so that nothing in my life was of any importance except for her."_

_No space to breathe._

_Clingy._

_Over-dependent._

_Stifling._

Emily shut her eyes.

_That's me._

_But surely Aaron wouldn't…_

"Emily?"

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his worried gaze. "Hmmm?"

"I lost you for a second." He squeezed her hands again, as if needing the reassurance that she really was there.

She shook her head to clear it. "Sorry."

"Don't be." He gave her a smile she knew all too well. "So…what about you? You still hanging in there?" he asked, and his voice took on a remarkably tender quality.

"I'm still hanging in there," she repeated, trying for a smile…yet it didn't quite meet her eyes.

"I'm glad," Dave responded, apparently oblivious to the thoughts running through her head. "You only have, what…two more treatments?"

"I do," she said, nodding. "How do you know?" she asked curiously, cocking her head to the side.

He took a bite of his salad, his eyes twinkling. "Garcia, she…she has this calendar on her office door. She's marked every single day that you have an appointment in red, and with every day that passes, she crosses through a box on the calendar with a thick black Sharpie. With every day that passes, it's a reminder that you're getting closer and closer to that final box on the calendar, the one that she's marked in bright pink and pounds of glitter. With every day that passes, it's a reminder that you're getting closer and closer to being through with chemo…to being completely healed."

Emily felt tears rushing to her eyes. "Oh, Dave…"

He kissed her hand, then swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "And your symptoms? How are they? Going away, I hope."

She shrugged, then thought of how to answer. "On a good day? It's only the exhaustion, and sometimes the vertigo." She coughed into her sleeve. _And this damned annoying cough._

Dave looked at her carefully. "And on a bad day?" he asked, his voice quieter than before.

Emily gave him a tiny smile. "You don't need to know."

He shook his head. "I do. You're my friend, Emily." _Let me help you,_ his eyes communicated.

She bit her lip, then sighed. "On a bad day…the exhaustion is there and so is the vertigo, but…but so is the anemia and the loss of appetite. I _still_ can't taste anything I eat; all I can taste is this sickening metallic taste in the back of my throat whenever I swallow. Then, of course, the alopecia…and the skin irritations." Her gaze dropped to the crook of her right arm, where the reddened skin looked the worst. "That's a bad day for me."

His expression was pained when he looked at, and she _hated_ the look of pity in his eyes. "God, Emily…"

"But that's not even the worst of it," she added, more to herself this time. "The thing I hate most about those days is the fact that Aaron feels like he has to take care of me twenty-four-seven. He hardly has time to himself anymore; no time to relax, or do anything else he wants to. I'm taking up his life." She thought of Dave's third wife. "I don't want him to think that I'm weak, or…or over-dependent, but -"

"He doesn't think that," Dave interrupted, his eyes wide. "I'm sure of it, Emily."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "But…you just said that -"

"Trust me, Emily," he pleaded, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze for what seemed to be the hundredth time in less than an hour. "I know my best friend."

Emily looked at him for a long moment, then relented. "Okay," she whispered. "I trust you."

But even as she said it, a chilling feeling of dread creeped up her spine at the thought that she could be driving away her one true love.

~.~.~

He found her in their room, curled tightly in a fetal position on their bed.

Dropping his briefcase, Hotch hurried to her side, his heart stopping as he saw her red-rimmed eyes. "Hey," he crooned quietly, cupping her cheek gently. "What's wrong, honey?"

She just shook her head and buried her face into the pillow. "Nothing," she mumbled, exhaustion bleeding into her cracked voice.

"Em, look at me," he implored lightly. She didn't. Worried, he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he barely heard her say, her voice practically inaudible. Her next whispered words made him frown. "Go away."

The way she had said the two words was not angered, but saddened. It only increased his concern. "Go away?" he echoed somewhat numbly. He brought the back of his hand to her forehead, feeling her warm skin. "Sweetheart…"

Her lower lip trembling, she rolled onto her side to look at him finally. "I'm fine," she repeated, though her tone conveyed the exact opposite.

"Something's on your mind; something's bothering you," Hotch murmured knowingly. "Tell me, Em. Please?"

Emily let out a sigh as she looked at him. She traced his features lightly with a feather-light touch, smoothing out the wrinkles in his forehead. "I just don't want you to think that you have to take care of me every single second of every single day."

His frown deepened. "I want to take care of you," he said sincerely.

She nodded, brushing away his statement. "And that makes you the sweetest man on the face of the earth," she answered, her voice raw. "But…you deserve some time to yourself, Aaron. You have your own life, outside of taking me to doctor's appointments every few weeks, and indulging my impractical pleas." She ran a hand over her face, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "I hate this, this knowledge that, because my cancer is overwhelming and…and difficult for me to deal with by myself, I'm taking up _all_ of your time." Her voice dropped into the quietest he had heard it. "I guess I…I just don't want you to think that I'm some…some weak, stifling, over-dependent freak. I can take care of myself," she said, and he easily noted a hint of her telltale stubbornness underneath her tone.

_Weak? Stifling? Over-dependent?_ Hotch's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Emily, what on earth brought this on?"

She looked at him for a long, tender moment, then closed her eyes. "Dave's getting married again."

Hotch's confusion only depended at what he thought was a non-sequitur. "I know…"

Emily swallowed thickly, moving aside as Hotch made to lay beside her on their bed. "Do you know why he divorced his third wife?"

"Um…yeah," he answered, still not following her train of thought. "She cheated on him, didn't she?"

"She did," Emily agreed, "but that's not the reason he divorced her. That was only his excuse. He had wanted to divorce her before that, because, after they got married, she changed into a woman he didn't really know, a woman who made it so that nothing in his life was of any importance except for her," she quoted verbatim, remembering Dave's earlier words. "She hovered, didn't give him any space to breathe….she became clingy and over-dependent. And _stifling._" She didn't realize she was crying until Hotch was wiping away her tears. "I don't want to become her, Aaron."

"My God, Emily…you are nothing like her, not at all," he said softly, making a mental note to kill Rossi the next time he saw him for unknowingly putting such ideas into Emily's head. She was reeling, couldn't he see? "Dave isn't like all men, and not all men are like Dave. I _enjoy_ being around you twenty-four-seven. I really do, sweetheart. I don't mind taking you to your treatments, or anywhere else you want to go, for that matter. You know that. I _want_ to take care of you," he said again, trying his hardest to communicate to her just how much it meant to him that he could help her like this. "Don't let this bother you, okay?"

But it was like she hadn't heard the last part of his entreaty. "Our waitress at dinner yesterday…she has a thing for you," she said quietly, tearfully.

Hotch gazed deep into Emily's chocolate brown eyes, worrying about the path she was wandering down. "Does she?" he murmured, telling her with his eyes that he couldn't care less. "I didn't notice."

"Didn't you?" Her voice changed, so much so that she almost sounded…hurt. It broke Hotch's heart. "She's really pretty. Blonde. Young…young_er._" _Than me._ The words didn't need to be said; he knew exactly what she was saying.

"Emily…"

"You smiled at her like you used to smile at me when we were dating. It made me think; there are so many beautiful women out there, women who don't have as much baggage as me, women who don't need assistance every single day because of some damned twist of fate that made her have cancer." She looked at him, and he was shocked at what he saw in her expression; confusion, not sadness. "Why would you stick with me, when there are women like _her_ out there?"

Hotch was so frustrated; he almost felt like crying. "Because those women, however beautiful they might be, are not _you_," he said, desperate for her to understand.

But she didn't. "Be honest with me, Aaron…do you still think I'm pretty?"

His mouth dropped open in surprise. "Yes," he said immediately. "Yes."

"Why?" she whispered again.

_"Emily." _He took her face in his large hands. "You could have purple skin with green stripes, flaming orange hair, six fingers on each hand, and yellow eyes, and you would still be the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on." He chuckled slightly when she bit back a small smile. "Too much?" She just shrugged, and looked at him intently, urging him to continue. "What I'm trying to say," he explained, "is that beauty isn't just on the outside. It's in here," he said tenderly, covering her steadily beating heart with a warm palm. "You're not only beautiful on the outside - and you _are_ beautiful, incredibly so - but on in the inside as well. You're so strong, compassionate, funny, intelligent…you're an amazing mother and role model. All of this makes you beautiful."

She leaned forward and kissed him slowly, pulling back only after she could no longer breathe. "Aaron, I…I hate how melodramatic I'm being. I hope you know that. But you just don't understand what it's like; I hope you never have to," she said frankly. "Being a woman and having breast cancer," she began slowly, "is…_really_ trying. Physically, mentally, emotionally. To a point, you end up feeling like you've lost shreds of your femininity. And that _hurts._ More so than anything else." Emily rested her head against his chest, buried further into the suit jacket he was wearing. "I've never cared about how I look." She paused, eyes falling shut. "Until now," she whispered.

"Then let me give you something to think about," he said simply. "Your eyes? I could get lost in them, I really could. They are the most enchanting shade of brown I've ever seen, and the emotion I see in them…God, it's amazing. Your eyelashes cast these shadows on your cheekbones in a certain lighting, and that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. Your lips…" he kissed her again, "your lips are gorgeous. You know that; I've told you an innumerable amount of times. Naturally reddish-pink, full, and _so _damned kissable…" She smiled against his jaw, prompting him to continue. "And your smile? Every time you smile, I feel like I'm a blind man seeing the sun for the first time in my life. Your slender fingers, your soft hands, the gentle swell of your breasts, the creamy soft skin of your stomach, your gorgeous curves, your mile long legs…all of the things I've mentioned make you, hands down, the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. Please, Emily…listen to me."

"Aaron…I love you. So much. Everything you've done for me makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world, including everything you're telling me right now. You're unimaginably sweet. But…I know you're just saying these things to appease me."

_"Damn it, Emily!" _Hotch really was crying now. _"Stop this. _Just stop."

"_I have no hair, Aaron_," she threw back, tears finally breaking free and streaming down her cheeks. "My eyebrows are thinning, and it's highly likely that my eyelashes will fall out, too. The skin on the crooks of my arms is peeling. I have sores on the inside of my mouth and gums that won't heal because of damned radiation. Half the time, I can't even stand up straight without falling over. I'm tired every day of the week. I wake up sweating at night, and then can't go back to bed. I have a chunk of skin missing from my left breast. What if I have to get a mastectomy? What then?" She began coughing due to the stress she was putting on her lungs. "And this _fucking cough_ won't go away! _I'm damaged goods, Aaron. Just accept it."_

Hotch was mad now. "Don't you _ever _say that again!" His hands gripped her arms, jolting her gaze up to his dark, blazing eyes. "You are _not_ damaged and you never will be," he yelled, his breathing ragged, his vision hazy.

"Tell me the truth: do you want me, Aaron?"

Her question was so unexpected, as was the sudden change in her tone; infuriated and frustrated, to trembling and desperate. "How could you even ask me that?" he asked in return, shaking his head in disbelief.

Her jaw dropped open. "Is that a no?"

She was _scared_.

His expression softened immediately, his grip on her arms loosening as he pulled her closer. "No…no, sweetheart, it's a very strong yes," he assured, internally berating himself for letting himself get so riled up at her.

"Even compared to -" He didn't let her finish, just nodded. "Why?" she asked, for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night.

"Because I love _you_, and you only."

Finally, _finally_, Emily began to think rationally once more. She let out a sigh; of relief, exhaustion, contentment, or frustration, Hotch didn't know. "I love you, too," she mumbled against his chest. "I'm sorry. I really am. I haven't been thinking straight all day, and to put you on the spot like this…" she shook her head, "I'm sorry. I just…_God, _I hate this."

"So do I," he crooned, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"I just…I just need…"

"Need what?"

"Reaffirmation." She moved her lips to the base of his throat. "Now?"

It took him a while to understand what she truly meant. And then it clicked.

_It's also important to tell her that you are still physically attracted to her as much as you were before she was diagnosed. Your mission is to protect and defend her femininity, and how she feels about herself as a woman. Your wife must know, on a deep emotional level, that she is your one and only._

_Your wife needs to feel wanted._

The excerpts from the book he had been reading came to mind immediately.

"If that's what you want, Emily," he responded, only a second too late.

_"No_," she instantly protested, like he had known she would. "I need _your_ answer; I need to know what _you_ want."

He gave her a sweet smile. "You."

"Now?" Her voice was quiet, almost…shy.

"Now," he agreed.

"Prove it," she whispered.

And then her lips were molding against his and he couldn't breathe, much less form rational thoughts.

~.~.~

Their bedroom was painfully quiet, save for the rustling of sheets and the sound of their mingled breathing, as Hotch slowly undressed her. Her gaze locked on his the entire time, her breathing hitched as the straps of her bra fell off her shoulder, baring an expanse of perfect skin to his lips. She shivered as he kissed his way along her throat, her collarbone, her shoulders…then down, lower…

_"Aaron. God."_

He smiled against the weighted underside of her breast, loving the sound of his name falling off her lips in her telltale breathy whisper. "Yes?" he murmured, shaping his lips around a puckered, rosy pink nipple.

_"Oh…"_

He linked her arms around his neck, giving her the support she needed as he rolled them so that she was on top, her bare chest resting against his. "Tell me what you want, Emily."

"You, Aaron. Complete me," she begged, yearning for the consummation that only he could provide her.

"Always."

Pushing into her slowly, _oh_ so slowly, he buried his face in her neck as they let out twin shuddering sighs. The sensations running through them were almost too much to handle; _almost_.

His hands fell to her hips…those soft, curvaceous hips he loved so much. "You okay?" he asked, his question landing against her cheek.

"Very much so." And for the first time that night, she smiled; really, genuinely smiled. "Can we just stay like this?" she breathed.

"I wish," he answered. And he did, he really did. Because laying on their bed with her, limbs intertwined, hearts beating wildly for each other and _only_ each other, connected as deeply as possible…it was intimate, lovely, and really perfect.

Really, truly perfect.

And until she started moving, Hotch swore to himself that he had never felt anything better than he was experiencing then.

But with each slow roll of her hips, he shut his eyes tighter and tighter, the sheer emotion behind her actions clear as day. God, he loved her. It pained him to see her so torn about her appearance, but he vowed he would prove to her that nothing could how beautiful she was to him. Nothing at all.

As for now…they were experiencing heaven. There really was no better description. It had been too long for either of them, and he could feel the familiar tension coiling deep in his belly. He was close, and based on the sighs and moans of increasing volume falling from Emily's perfect, plump lips, he guessed that she was, too.

"Aaron," she managed, panting heavily. "Oh, God, Aaron."

Letting another shuddering breath slip past, he pulled her as close to him as possible and covered her lips with his as she came, stars bursting before her eyes. It was as if it was their first time together; emotions and passion was so rife in the air, especially one in particular.

True, unadulterated love.

"Come on," she coaxed, her breathing labored. "Come on, Aaron, come on…"

He did just as she said and let go, giving her everything he had and collapsing against her, his body providing a comfortable, welcome weight against hers.

It wasn't until he rolled off of her minutes later that he noticed she was crying.

Worry refilled him in an instant. "Em…sweetheart, did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, then shocked him by smiling. "No…I've never felt better, Aaron," she admitted, pressing her lips to his in a painfully sweet embrace.

"But…your tears…"

"Happy tears," she corrected, her eyes burning into his with a ferocity and passion he had never seen from her before.

They lay together like that for several minutes, Emily still crying, before she spoke once more, this time in a tone that conveyed her true inner strength. "Aaron?"

"Yes, my love?" he asked, kissing away her tears.

"Can you promise me something?"

"Anything," he immediately - and _wholeheartedly _- answered.

"Anything?" she countered, knowing that what she was going to ask was something…hard.

"Anything," he repeated.

She nodded, then rested her chin on his chest, so that their gazes firmly locked. "If I die…"

Hotch instantly stopped her. _And I thought we were over this. _"You are _not_ going to die, Emily. Please understand that."

Emily brushed it away like she always did. "We're all going to die, Aaron," she said logically, her voice shockingly calm. "It's just a matter of when." She paused, watching as he shook his head, then continued in a tone so heartfelt and emotional that he began to tear up yet again. "If I die, I want to do it in your arms."

_Emily…_

_Oh, God._

"I want you to be the last person I see before I close my eyes that final time. I want the last thing I feel to be your lips against mine, your arms around me, keeping me safe. And I don't want you to cry. I want you to smile. For me," Emily said thickly, still crying, but still smiling. She brought two fingers to either side of her husband's mouth and tried to lift them into a slight smile. His tears stopped her. "Can you do that, Aaron? Can you, please?"

Hotch took in a heaving breath, then shook his head violently; he couldn't remember the last time he had cried this much, probably only when Haley had died.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind.

"I can't," he managed, his voice hoarse. _"Emily…"_

"You said you'd promise me anything," she persisted, her lips resting at the corner of his slightly opened mouth. "Please, Aaron."

He held her tightly, _so_ tightly, but the look on her face broke away at his resolve and he crumbled, finally nodding. "I promise," he said quietly, so quietly that, had she not been looking at him form the words, she would have thought she had imagined it. "I promise," he cried once more.

She smiled again, more tiredly this time, then wrapped her arms snugly around his waist. "Thank you," she whispered against his lips.

And then she fell into a spent, peaceful sleep, Hotch's pained crying the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Reviews are love. Please tell me what you think!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Also, t<strong>he<strong>** FINAL Profiler's**** Choice**** Awards ****ballot ****is ****up! I cannot tell you how grateful I am; _Daddy's Little Girl_ got nominated for Best Hotch/Emily, and _Memento Mori_ got nominated for Best Post-Ep. I'm truly honored. If you have the time and would like to vote, the ballot and rules are at the short link here (copy/paste and remove the spaces):****

**d . pr/N11A**

******Ballots are due November 30th! And again, thank you all so very much.******


	14. 45

**Author's Note: So, we've already had interaction with the BAU girls, and Rossi. As requested, this chapter contains a moment with Morgan, too. Thank you so much for reading! I think you'll enjoy this one.**

****Age Guide (to make sense of this story and my others, which are set in the same universe): Hotch: 49, Emily: 45, Jack: 12, and Avery: 6 (7 in February; it's currently October) Hope this helps!****

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p><em>"If I die, I want to do it in your arms. I want you to be the last person I see before I close my eyes that final time. I want the last thing I feel to be your lips against mine, your arms around me, keeping me safe. And I don't want you to cry. I want you to smile. For me. Can you do that, Aaron?"<em>

_"Can you, please?"_

Hotch woke with a jolt, Emily's words still echoing in his mind as painfully as they had when she had first spoken them. Numbly, he remembered her happy tears and his anguished ones as he had agreed to her desperate plea.

And then, she had simply fallen asleep, right there in the safe embrace his arms provided.

It was a while before the pain fled and Hotch could _really_ focus on the sight before him. Looking downward, he couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Emily was draped across the length of his body, gloriously naked, her chest pressed against his, and her head perfectly nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

She was beautiful. Gorgeous, really. She looked blissfully at peace…wonderfully untouched.

Unable to help himself, Hotch lightly ran a hand down her bare spine, his feather-light touch turning into swooping, soothing circles traced on her skin as he felt her shiver in response to his ministrations. Emily blinked a couple times before fully opening her eyes and looking at him, a tenderness so profound in her gaze that it made his heart swell.

"Good morning," Hotch murmured, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck.

"Mmmm…good morning," she yawned, unconsciously arching into his persistent, pushy lips. Her sleep-hazy vision cleared just in time for her to see him looking down at her with an almost awestruck grin. She traced the outline of his mouth with her small finger. "What's this smile for?" she purred.

He shrugged gently, then locked gazes with her. "Not every man gets to wake up with the most spectacular, _stunning_ woman in the world in his arms," he crooned into her ear, hugging her close.

"Why are you so good to me?" she breathed, cupping his cheek lovingly. "I never know what to say when you tell me things like that."

"Then say nothing." Hotch's large hands skimmed down her sides and came to rest on her hips, but not before he caught a patch of skin that made her squirm. He chuckled to himself, his interest piquing. "Emily?" he asked curiously.

She bit her lip, then squirmed again as he found that same spot on her body once more. "Stop it," she managed, letting out a very girlish giggle that only spurred him on further.

"You wouldn't be ticklish, would you, sweetheart?"

"No…" But that same giggle escaped once more, even louder this time. She tried stilling his hands, but he was ruthless, and soon, her peals of laughter were filling the room.

"Aaron," Emily panted, trying in vain to catch her breath as the sweet assault continued.

"Your laughter is _enchanting_," he sighed, grinning against her cheek. He would have continued tickling her, too, if she hadn't been coughing instead of squealing joyfully. "Em?" He immediately stopped. "Hey, are you okay?"

She nodded, but coughed some more. "I'm fine," she insisted.

Watching her double over on the bed proved otherwise, however. Holding her as her body shook with a series of wheezing coughs, Hotch rubbed her back to calm her. "Em…"

"It's just allergies," she interrupted knowingly. "I checked; the pollen levels in the air are three times the amount they usually are, and we just got a fresh wave of ragweed in from the south. So you can stop worrying."

"But it could be -"

_"Allergies."_

With a final violent cough, the onslaught on her lungs ended, but not before Emily gasped at the sight of something that proved her very wrong, and Hotch very right.

There, on the spotless, light blue pillowcase, was a stain of dark crimson blood.

~.~.~

"Radiation pneumonitis."

_"Shit_._"_ Emily ran a hand over her face in frustration.

Hotch reached for her wrist and soothed it with his thumb. "Emily…"

She sighed, her voice dropping lower in timbre. "I'm sorry. I don't usually let things get to me this much," she said, barely meeting the oncologist's gaze.

"Don't worry about it," he said with a slight wave. "It's frustrating. Believe me, I know."

"I just…" Emily frowned, then started over. "How did I get it? I stopped radiation treatments over three weeks ago."

"How long have you had this cough?" Haynes questioned in return.

"A week and a half?" She looked at Hotch for confirmation.

Hotch shook his head, however. "More than that. At least two weeks. I'd go so far as to say three."

"That explains a lot," Haynes led in. "Your lungs - as well as the cells of some of your other organs - are still weak, and it's in that weakened state that you contracted it from someone else. Now, usually your immune system would be able to tackle it immediately, but because of the chemo -"

"My immune system is significantly weakened," Emily finished, nodding. "Which also explains my anemia?"

"Which also explains your anemia," he agreed. "And your other systems? Are any of them disappearing finally?"

Emily took a minute to take stock of her condition. "Yes," she answered after a long beat of silence. "It's really only the anemia and the exhaustion that has stayed thus far. The vertigo's gone, I can taste some foods - not all, but _some_ - and a couple of the sores in my mouth have finally closed."

"That's good to hear," Haynes said cheerily, jotting down more notes in his yellow notepad. "Now…" he tore a sheet of paper free, "I'm going to send this prescription to our pharmacy, and they should have your antibiotics ready for you in no more than an hour. Take it twice a day, with food. Without deviation, alright?"

The expression on Emily's face was one of gratitude. "Yes, Doctor."

He smiled. "And _rest_. Rest, rest, rest. I cannot tell you enough how important it is that you rest."

Hotch gave Emily's arm a gentle squeeze. "I'll make sure she does," he promised.

"Good." From his bag, he pulled out the vials containing Emily's 'chemo cocktail' - tamoxifen, cyclophosphamide, and doxorubicin. "And now, we're one step closer to your full recovery. Let's begin, shall we?"

"Yes. Let's."

~.~.~

"You heard him, Emily. Take your medicine."

She gave him yet another stubborn sigh. "I know, I know."

"I'll get you a glass of water and crackers?" he asked tentatively.

Emily smiled. "Please."

They had barely entered their house when Avery came rocketing down the stairs. _"Mommy!"_

Hotch bit his lip worriedly as he saw Emily stumble slightly backwards as she caught the leaping girl in her arms. If he hadn't been directly behind her to steady her, she would have likely fallen. "Sweetheart, remember what I told you about jumping on Mommy when she's on her medicine?"

"Oh." Avery buried her face in the crook of Emily's neck. "I'm sorry," she murmured, pulling back slightly to look at her mother with wide, sparkling doe eyes.

Emily kissed her on her small nose. "It's okay, sweetie. What were you going to say before Daddy interrupted?" She tossed Hotch a loving glance, which he returned with a chuckle as he wandered into the kitchen. "You seemed so excited about it, too."

"Yeah!" Avery suddenly remembered. "Jack told me to remind him to tell you 'Happy Birthday' today at breakfast, but I forgot, and you left right as I remembered." She pouted. "So we couldn't tell you in the morning and it's all my fault."

_Huh. It's my birthday. I completely forgot._ Emily gave her daughter a consoling grin. "Well, do you want to tell me now?"

The sweet little girl nodded immediately, then hugged her mother even tighter than before. "Happy birthday, Mommy! I love you _so_ much!"

From his place in the kitchen, Hotch felt his heart stop. _Her birthday. Oh my God, I forgot to get her a present. _His mind was still reeling from that realization when he entered the main room, his hands full with a cold glass of water and a box of saltines, Jack following close behind. "Here you go," Hotch said quietly, unable to look her in the eye. _How on earth could I have forgotten?_

"Thank you," she replied with a crooked little tilt to her lips that made him feel, if possible, even more guilty at his slip-up.

"Uncle Derek called," Jack announced, after giving his mother a warm 'Happy Birthday' hug. "He said they had a case but that he wanted to drop by before they left and give you something."

"Did he, now? I swear, I tell him and everyone else on the team _every single year _that I don't expect anything from them, but each year, they insist." She shook her head. "If anything, I enjoy their company more than anything money can buy. Did he say when he'd be dropping by?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't think so, no. Louise talked to him on speakerphone, but I couldn't really hear everything they said."

Emily ruffled the boy's sandy blonde hair. "That's okay, sweetheart."

Avery shifted in her mother's embrace, making her presence known once more. "Mommy, Miss Louise said that I have to go back to bed because it's too early. I don't have to go back, do I? I'm already wide awake and not tired at all," she practically whined.

"Well, Ave, that depends. What time is it?" she asked, hitching the girl higher on her hip.

"Nine-thirty…"

"That is kind of early for you to be up on a weekend," Hotch interjected, frowning slightly as Avery pouted once more.

"Your father's right; you need your rest, sweetheart," Emily agreed.

"But I'm not sleepy!"

"Tell you what. You don't have to go back to bed now, but sometime this afternoon, you need to take a nap, alright?" Emily reasoned.

"But I don't like taking naps, Mommy…"

"What if I read you a story?"

That calmed Avery down. "What story?" she asked, her never-ending curiosity returning.

"Whatever story you want me to read you," Emily said, grinning.

"Well…" Avery thought it over. There were so many possibilities…so many good books to choose. "We haven't finished _The Twelve Dancing Princesses _yet…"

"Then we'll read _The Twelve Dancing Princesses._"

"Okay!" Avery motioned that she wanted to be set on her feet. "Now?" she asked, giggling.

Emily laughed. "I wonder why you're suddenly so eager to go back to bed." She winked at Avery, who was tugging on her arm, then said, "Alright, we can go now, sweet girl. My goodness, you're impatient."

Jack spoke up. "Oh, I…uh…actually, I was wondering if you could help me with a problem I had to do on my Algebra homework…" he said, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"I can help you if your mom is busy," Hotch said, making sure Emily took her medicine and taking the empty glass from her hand.

"Aaron, honey, clearly Jack was trying to say that I am way smarter than you and thus, should be the one to help him with his homework," Emily quipped, rolling her eyes playfully.

_"Clearly_,_" _he echoed, shaking his head.

"Th-that's not what I meant," Jack said, looking between his parents uncertainly.

Hotch rested a consoling hand on his son's shoulder. "I know. Your mom's just being a tease."

Again, Emily winked. "It's what I do best. Now, Avery, go on and run up to your room while I help Jack really quick, and then I promise we'll read together."

"Pinky promise?"

The two Hotchner women linked fingers. "Pinky promise."

~.~.~

Emily and Avery were halfway through the story when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," she heard Hotch announce from somewhere downstairs, but that didn't stop her from shooting her daughter an apologetic glance.

"Sweetheart?"

Avery opened her eyes just a titch. "Mommy?" she questioned in return.

"Are you feeling sleepy?" Emily gently brushed the young girl's soft curls out of her face.

"Maybe a little," Avery admitted, nestling further into her blankets.

"Would you be okay if we stop here for now?" She shut the book slowly. "Uncle Derek just dropped by and I'd like to see him before he leaves for work. You can come downstairs with me, if you want. I'm sure he'd love to see his goddaughter's pretty face."

Avery's eyes were falling shut again. "Can I stay here?" she mumbled groggily.

"Of course." Rising from the foot of the bed, Emily leaned forward to give her daughter a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, sweet girl. Get some rest."

"Love you, too, mommy."

With one last glance at Avery, Emily silently closed the girl's bedroom door, before descending the stairs to find Morgan casually leaning against the frame to their front door, conversing amicably with Hotch.

She couldn't help it; she grinned, overjoyed at the sight of her former partner, her best friend. _"Derek."_

At the sound of her voice, the dark-skinned man turned to face her, his visage brightening immediately. _"Princess_." In three long strides, he had engulfed her in a comforting bear hug. "How are you?" he asked, his eyes warm as they met hers.

"I'm…good." she said finally, not catching Hotch's ensuing smile at her admission. "Getting better each day," she smiled tremulously. "And you? How have you been?"

"Good," he answered, returning her smile. Then he motioned to the large bag he was holding. "I can't stay long, because we have a new case - Michigan, this time - but I was instructed by a certain Penelope Garcia to deliver this to you. We know you hate being the center of attention and being showered with gifts," he interjected, before Emily could protest like he knew she would, "but we couldn't just not get you anything. So, we decided to each get you something _small_."

"You know I don't expect gifts from you guys," Emily clucked, biting her bottom lip as he pressed the handles of the bag into her grasp. "I don't know how to possibly repay you."

"Just enjoy your birthday and get well soon," Morgan responded, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "That's all we ask in return."

"I will," she said, her voice quiet. "Come in for a little while?" she asked, motioning back to their living room. "For a drink, at least."

He shook his head regrettably. "I'd love to, you know I would. But the jet leaves in fifteen."

Emily sighed. "Okay," she relented. Then, "Thank you. Tell them I said thank you."

"I will," Morgan promised. "Bye, Princess," he said, leaving a friendly kiss on her cheek.

"Bye, Derek."

"And hey, give me a call every once and a while, alright? I miss saving you ass from unsubs every single day."

Both Hotch and Emily laughed at that. "I saved your ass a fair number of times, too, you know." Emily tossed back.

"True, true," Morgan conceded.

"But I'll make sure to call."

"I'm holding you to it, Princess." And with that, and a goodbye to Hotch, he turned and left.

~.~.~

"Jack apparently read the rest of _The Twelve Dancing Princesses_ to Avery."

Emily's face lit up. "Did he? Oh, that's so sweet of him. I told her we'd finish it together tonight, but I guess she couldn't wait," she chuckled, sitting beside Hotch on their bed and finally going through the gifts the team had given her.

The DVD of the original Russian version of _Solaris_ from Reid, which they had never gotten to watch together, and the promise of a movie date sometime soon. A gift certificate from Morgan to her favorite spa for a massage. A beautiful, plush, canary yellow cashmere sweater from JJ. A pack of multi-colored, aloe-infused therapeutic socks from Garcia; "they're the most comfortable in the world!" the blonde had insisted. And…

…and an intricately carved wooden music box from Rossi that played "O Mio Babbino Caro," her favorite Puccini piece. Upon opening the music box, a piece of paper fell out.

Picking it up as it flittered to the ground, Emily realized that it wasn't just a plain old piece of paper, but a photo. A photo of Rossi and a kind-looking, golden-blonde haired woman. On the back, she read, in Rossi's distinct scrawl, three simple words that made her smile.

_"She said yes."_

Emily was handing it over for Hotch to see when she caught sight of his sullen facial expression. "Honey, are you okay?"

He looked at her for a long time before reluctantly saying, "I forgot it was your birthday. I didn't get you anything." Then, quieter, "I'm so sorry."

A gentle hand came up to cup his cheek. "_That's _what's making you look so depressed? God, Aaron, you know I don't care about presents. Hell, I don't blame you one bit; I, myself, didn't realize it was my birthday until Avery brought it up. Besides, what girl wants to be reminded that she's a year older?"

Hotch shook his head. "But I've never forgotten your birthday. _Never_."

"You've had a lot on your mind lately," Emily reasoned.

"But -"

She silenced him with a tender press of her lips against his. "You've already gotten me a birthday gift, Aaron. Several gifts, actually."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

Emily smiled against his jaw. "You woke me up with a kiss this morning. You made my favorite breakfast before we left for the treatment center. And…and last night…" Her cheeks flushed at the pleasant memories. "Last night was perfect. Honey, you made me feel like a woman again," she said softly. "That's the best gift I could ask for."

Hotch sighed, burying his face into the crook of his neck. "Emmy…"

"But," she relented, "if you really want to do something for me -"

"Yes," he said immediately.

"- then tonight, after the kids are asleep, you and I can stay up, eat ice cream, and watch an old movie together." Emily kissed him again. "How does that sound?"

"Perfect." Hotch hugged her close. "You'll pick the movie?"

They shared a loving smile. "Of course."

~.~.~

"Where's Daddy?"

Emily looked away from the photo album she had previously been perusing, her eyes crinkling at the corners as Avery plopped onto the couch beside her. "Daddy went to the grocery store because we ran out of milk and we need some if we're going to make _milk_shakes tonight."

The girl's eyes widened. "Milkshakes? Really?" She was grinning widely now.

"Really." It was then that Emily noticed the tiny bottle in her daughter's hand. "What's that, sweetheart?"

"Oh, um…nail polish. It's a pretty color and I wanted to paint your toes." Her wide grin morphed into a semi-shy smile. "Can I?"

"As long as I can paint yours afterwards," Emily negotiated, kissing the girl's nose.

The vibrant grin was back on Avery's face. "Okay!"

And at that, she set to work.

A half hour had passed before both girls had their nails painted a lovely periwinkle. Emily laughed as she tickled Avery's foot, causing the six year old to erupt in a fit of boisterous giggles. "Well, Ave, you did a wonderful job. I believe you have a future in giving manicures and pedicures." A beat of silences passed. Then, "But please pursue a different career path."

Avery snuggled closer to her mother's side. "I already know what I want to be when I grow up," she said seriously.

"Really?" Emily asked, remembering Avery's previous dream to be an astronaut. "What do you want to be?"

"Daddy said that I'm going to be the doctor who finally finds the cure to cancer," Avery said confidently.

Emily wrapped her arms around the young girl. "I don't doubt it one bit. You can do anything you set your mind to, sweetheart."

Avery closed her eyes. "So can you, Mommy."

~.~.~

"Mom's asleep," Jack whispered to Hotch as he came in through the garage, his arms full of grocery bags.

Setting the bags down on the kitchen island, Hotch fished through them for two items that he skillfully kept hidden. "She is?" The boy nodded. "Since how long?"

"Um…about an hour, maybe a little more." The two boys began shelving the grocery items in the pantry and fridge. "I made sure she took her medicine. I guess it made her drowsy. I can go and wake her up, if you want me to."

Hotch immediately shook his head. "She needs her sleep. But…if you'd put the milk away and give me a minute to fix up something, I can move her to our bedroom. And thank you, Jack."

He looked at his father curiously. "For what?"

"For taking care of your mother." Hotch gave his son a tired smile.

"Of course," Jack responded, smiling back. "Oh, and Avery said something about having milkshakes with dinner…do you want me to bring out the blender?"

"Please."

The next thing Emily knew, she was in her husband's arms being carried bridal-style to their room. She blinked groggily. "Aaron?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," he replied softly. "Go back to sleep, honey. I just didn't want you to be on that couch for too long; it always makes your back hurt."

"So thoughtful…" When he finally placed her on the mattress, Emily sighed and crawled under the blankets, before frowning in confusion. She opened her eyes completely, and even in the darkness, she could tell that she had never seen the set of sheets or duvet before. Eggplant purple with silver embroidered patterns…and _so _soft… "These are new," she said, just the hint of a question in her voice.

Hotch smiled almost sheepishly. "Yeah, I…I just bought them. I know your skin has been super sensitive lately, and I just thought it would be better and more helpful to have sheets softer than the ones we had before, so your skin wouldn't be constantly irritated throughout the night."

Emily fell silent for a whole minute, stunned speechless. She could feel tears coming to her eyes. "Aaron…" she finally managed. "I…thank you. Really. This is so sweet of you." She smiled against his lips as he leaned in for a kiss. "What have I done to deserve you?"

"You've been your perfect self," he answered, tucking her in. "I was going to go make sandwiches and milkshakes for the kids. What flavor do you want, chocolate or banana?"

"Chocolate, please."

"Alright. And _then_ we can watch our movie. That sound okay?"

She smiled, yawning. "It sounds wonderful."

~.~.~

They were halfway through _The Sound of Music_ ("An oldie but goodie," Emily had praised upon discovering that it was playing on ABC Family) when Hotch realized that he was the only one watching it. Quietly turning the TV off, he wandered upstairs to check on the kids, then rejoined Emily in bed.

"Happy forty-fifth birthday, honey," he murmured in her ear, his warm embrace surrounding her, before falling into a peaceful, contented sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Please leave me some feedback, if you have the time; I'd love to know what you think so far! As always, I greatly appreciate every second you put into reading and reviewing my stories. The next chapter will be even lighter (and happier!), I promise.<strong>

**Oh, and, any idea as to what the second item Hotch kept hidden after coming home from the grocery store was? The first was the new set of sheets...and here's a hint: the grocery store was not the only place he went that night. Shoot me your guesses!**

* * *

><p><strong>Also, t<strong>he<strong>** FINAL Profiler's**** Choice**** Awards ****ballot ****is ****up! I cannot tell you how grateful I am; _Daddy's Little Girl_ got nominated for Best Hotch/Emily, and _Memento Mori_ got nominated for Best Post-Ep. I'm truly honored. If you have the time and would like to vote, the ballot and rules are at the short link here (copy/paste and remove the spaces):****

**d . pr/N11A**

******Ballots are due November 30th! And again, thank you all so very much.******


	15. Opals and Pink Tourmalines

**Author's Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than I would have liked, but I made it my mission to have an update this weekend, and so, here it is. Also, usually each chapter takes place several days or weeks after the previous one (fast-paced, not real-time), but this one actually does take place during the same night as the last chapter. So, I doubt that that made any sense at all, but **I sincerely hope you all enjoy!****

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Hotch awoke chilled to the bone, his body almost numb with cold.<p>

"Emily?" He shivered, turning in the darkness to face her. What he saw made a sweet smile touch his lips.

The entire duvet was wrapped tightly around Emily's body, not a single stitch of fabric available for him.

"Well, Miss Blanket-Hogger," Hotch murmured in her ear, "no wonder it's thirty degrees below zero in here," he said teasingly, kissing her shoulder. "Care to share?"

He felt her body shift against his, but she said nothing in response.

"...Em?"

It was then that he heard something reminiscent to teeth chattering and came to a sudden realization.

"Sweetheart, you're _shivering_," he breathed, wrapping his arms around her tightly and consequently jolting her awake.

"I'm freezing," she moaned, burying further in the sheets. And then she rubbed her tired eyes and really saw him, blanket-less and bare. "Oh, God, you're probably freezing, too. I'm so sorry."

"No, don't be," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead as she turned and snuggled into his chest, pulling the blanket over both of them. "Is it the anemia?" he asked silently.

She nodded, searching for his gaze. "It's been getting better…"

"…but not as quickly as you'd like," he finished knowingly. Emily simply made a noise of agreement and rested her head in the crook of his neck, his steady exhale of breath warm against the nape of hers. Hotch idly hummed to himself, running his hand along her back to warm her up. "You better?" he asked after a long while, when he was sure she'd already be asleep.

Again, she nodded, yawning against his arm that was pressed against her side. "Much better," she murmured, still a little cold. "Thanks," she said, her voice drifting away in sleep.

He chuckled lowly. "For what, sweetheart?"

"Being my personal space heater. You're the best."

Their lips met in a lazy kiss. "It's what I'm here for."

~.~.~

A little over one hour later, Emily still hadn't fallen asleep, this time because of hot flashes.

The heat spreading through her body, under her skin, was rapidly becoming too much for her to handle. With several sheets and blankets, and a very warm male body pressed up against her side, there was no escaping the sweltering temperature. Emily was turning around to maneuver out of Hotch's arms when her gaze came to rest on his handsome features, observing him in the comfortable, moonlit darkness of their room.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The lines on his forehead were gone, instead replaced with just the touch of a smile on his lips. His hair was sleep-rumpled, his chest rising and falling with each rhythmic breath. He had fallen asleep with his face pressed into her neck, breathing in the scent of her sweet-smelling skin.

And he looked…peaceful. And rightfully so. He deserved what little peace he could get, after helping her through each trying day. Emily carefully brought a hand to his face, stroking his cheek with a feather-light touch, before leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss.

He sighed against her jaw, but didn't wake, much to Emily's relief. He needed his rest just as much as she did.

But rest, for her, at the moment, was simply not an option. The more and more she tried to sidle out of his embrace, the more and more he tightened his arms around her waist. The heat was becoming unbearable, so, finally, in a quick move, she rolled out of his vice and out of the bed, immediately ripping off her sweatpants in frustration.

It was just too _hot._

Gasping for air as she fanned herself by their bedroom window, Emily closed her eyes. _Just two more treatments_, she told herself. _Just two more treatments and all of these symptoms will go away. _

_And the cancer, too._

_Hopefully._

Sinking onto the cushioned window seat in the corner of the room, Emily rest her head on the cool glass windowpane, gazing out at the moon and stars. Her mind wandered as her body temperature slowly cooled, and in her half-asleep state, Emily didn't even realize what she was doing until a beautifully bound, maroon and gold-embroidered photo album was sitting on her lap, open to her favorite page. Her favorite picture.

It wasn't the first time she had done this. Her body temperature had more than once prompted her to this same window seat at night, and every night she found herself in the same position, the photo album open to the same picture. Slowly, Emily traced the edge of the photo, a soft smile coming to her lips as she brought the glossy parchment out of its plastic sleeve.

The album was their wedding album, the picture of them at the altar, gazing into each other's eyes. She would never forget that moment; they had just pulled away from the kiss that sealed their lives together, and in their hearts, they were the only two people in the room. In that blissful moment, only they had mattered. And they were simply two carefree, loving souls, free of the weight of suffering. Free of the weight of cancer.

One of his hands was on her satin-covered hip, the other cupping her cheek softly. Hers had been folded up against his chest…and they had looked so beautiful, so young. So innocent and untouched.

Silently, Emily ran a finger along her silhouette, paying the most attention to her hair. The lovely brown locks that had been tightly curled and cascaded down her back and over her shoulders…

She missed that. Really truly missed it.

~.~.~

Emily was so fully absorbed in the atmosphere of that perfect moment, eight years ago, that she didn't realize Hotch was awake until he was kneeling beside her, gazing at the picture as well.

"We should get married."

Jolted out of her reverie, she spun to look at him, her eyes bright even in the black of night. And then, she smiled. "I think you're forgetting one thing, Aaron," she murmured, moving so that he could sit beside her on the window seat. "We're already married," she reminded, chuckling.

Hotch chuckled, too, before leaning in for a kiss. "I meant…we should renew our vows."

She snuggled into his side, breathing out a pleased sigh as his fingers danced across the bare skin of her legs. "Why?"

He looked at her intently, his gaze holding hers. "You and I, we've…we've had some rocky times in our relationship, this cancer being the main one. It's tough, and I want you to know that I understand that and everything you do each day. I guess I just think that it would be a good point in time to commemorate all of the hard work that we've done to reach this point in our lives together, and overall, I just want to prove to you that you'll always be my number one commitment, no matter what happens, and no matter what comes up to threaten our relationship. You'll always be my number one love," he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently. He then gave her his sweetest smile. "Just think about it: a couple weeks after your last chemo treatment, we can have a small reception…just you and me, the team, your parents. We can start our lives over, on a fresh new page…a healthy, strong one." He kissed her again. "We…we could even go to France on Bastille Day."

Emily bit her lip, her eyes prickling with tears. "I'd like that," she whispered.

"I would, too." At that, Hotch got up and strode over to his side of their drawer chest. Fishing around in the second drawer, he searched and searched…until finally, he found it, buried underneath a mountain of his ties. He smiled again, and made his way back to her, before leaning on one knee and caressing her palm with his roughened fingers.

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, her heart rate quickening. _"Aaron…"_

He kissed each of her fingers, one by one, before clearing his throat and explaining. "Yesterday, when I went to go run some errands, I didn't just buy groceries or a new set of sheets. I stopped by that little jewelry shop by the mall, and…well, this little gem caught my eye." He opened the velvet ring box then, letting Emily see what he had found. "They're the brightest, most beautiful opals I've ever seen," he said. "And I know that opal is your birthstone. But so is pink tourmaline, and the jeweler was nice enough to replace the central opal - and two on the side - with tourmalines. So, really, it was a no-brainer. I had to buy it." Taking the shining, cushion-centered white gold, alternately bejeweled ring out of the box, he settled it on her long, slender finger, his heart clenching at the heart-stopping smile that was spreading across her lips. "Consider it a belated birthday gift, sweetheart. And, oh…" the teasing, boyish smile was back on his face, "will you marry me, Emily Elizabeth Hotchner?"

She couldn't help it; she laughed at his phrasing, and shed some joyous tears as well. "Yes, you silly man. Yes, I'll marry you."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: So, what did you think? The mystery item that Hotch kept secret was a ring! <strong>

**We've hit a milestone with this story; from here on out, each of the remaining five (or six, I'm still debating) chapters will be lighthearted. It will still be very emotional, but I'm hoping this means no more tears will be shed! But, I am also planning on writing a second (optional) ending after the entire story is over, so that's just a warning in advance.**

**But anyway, thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this, and please, if you have the time, feel free to leave me a review! I can't even begin to tell you how much your feedback means to me. **

* * *

><p><strong>Also, t<strong>he<strong>** FINAL Profiler's**** Choice**** Awards ****ballot ****is ****up! I cannot tell you how grateful I am; _Daddy's Little Girl_ got nominated for Best Hotch/Emily, and _Memento Mori_ got nominated for Best Post-Ep. I'm truly honored. If you have the time and would like to vote, the ballot and rules are at the short link here (copy/paste and remove the spaces):****

**d . pr/N11A**

******Ballots are due November 30th! And again, thank you all so very much.******


	16. Thank You, Really

**Author's Note: I sincerely hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's filled with a medley of interactions: some with Reid, some with Dr. Haynes, some with the kids, and Sean, and the entire Hotchner family, at that. Thanksgiving is the perfect time to toast to love and life and happiness...and that is just what Hotch and Emily will do. As always, thank you for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"I was beginning to think you had forgotten all about your promise."<p>

"Forget? How could I possibly forget?" Reid smiled and enveloped Emily in a hug. "May I come in?"

"Of course, of course," Emily puttered, moving aside from the door and guiding the younger man to the living room. "The DVD's already in, so you can press play whenever you're comfortable. There're also sandwiches and crackers in the kitchen, and various drinks in the refrigerator, but if you want anything else, just let me know -"

He reached for her shoulder gently, giving it a squeeze and effectively stopping her rambling. "Emily. I'll be fine," he promised.

Her fingers worked at the hem of the thick evergreen sweater she was wearing, busying herself with a loose thread. "You're sure?"

He nodded. "One hundred percent." Then he patted the free space beside him on the couch, beckoning her over, and said something that made Emily's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You're trying too hard."

His smile was sweet, his statement innocent, but still, Emily looked at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

Reid's eyes met hers, a look that clearly said, _Don't take this the wrong way_, in his soft brown gaze. "I think…I think you're trying too hard to be normal. You're exhausting yourself. Emily, all of your loved ones, the people who care about you and who you care about, they all know what you're going through, and they all understand." He paused, mulling over how to word his thoughts. "We…don't need you to go out of your way to play the perfect hostess, or to make us comfortable at whatever cost," he said astutely. "Your company is _always_ enjoyable, no matter what you do. So, really, all we do need is for you to relax, kick your feet up on the table, and…_recover. _Okay?"

"Okay," she breathed. Then, a couple beats later, "Spencer Reid, did you just tell me off?"

The teasing lilt in her tone and the sarcastic twinkle in her eyes made him feel at ease, and at once, he knew she'd understood. "I think I did," he tossed back, grinning his boyish grin. "Now…" he motioned over to the TV screen, _"Solaris?"_

_"Solaris,"_ she agreed, taking his hand in hers and giving it a sisterly squeeze. "And Spence…thank you."

It's been too long since he's heard anyone other than JJ call him that, and it's a welcome sound coming from Emily's chapped lips. "Don't mention it." And then, the beginning credits began to roll, and the two friends embarked on an interstellar journey to the titular, faraway oceanic planet.

~.~.~

"Are you tired?"

Amused and a bit dazed from his persistent kisses, Emily let out a breathy chuckle. "It's not even six yet, Aaron."

His lips rested on her collarbone, then her jaw, then the base of her neck. "I want to give you a bath," he murmured against her skin. "Can I?"

"You just want me naked and wet under your hands…don't you?" she teased, her voice husky.

"You've got me there," Hotch answered wittily, causing Emily to chuckle into the hollow of his cheek. "But no…that's not the _only_ reason. I want to take care of you, sweetheart."

"Good God, Aaron," she breathed. "You've taken care of me enough. You deserve to be cared for, too…every once and a while. I owe you that much."

"Then we'll say I'm doing this solely because I want you naked and wet under my hands." He lifted her into his arms, smiling to himself as her long legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and carried her to their spacious master bathroom. "And Emmy?"

"Hmmm?"

"You don't owe me anything."

Emily would have spoken in protest, but any further comments she could have had were drowned out by the loud sound of warm water rapidly filling the tub. Before she could even think, he had added her favorite salts to the water and was already in the tub, holding a hand out for her and beckoning her in. She settled back against his chest with a contented sigh, her head falling back against his shoulder as his hands fell to her hips.

"Oh, honey…"

Submerging her loofah into the bubbly, sweet smelling bath water, he ran the sponge over her body in tender, swooping patterns, alternating between the valley between her breasts, her taut stomach, her slender arms, her long legs, and the apex of her thighs. With every sigh, breath, whisper, and moan that fell from his wife's lips, Hotch fell deeper into her spell. Deeper in love.

She really was enchanting, lying there, her cheeks flushed, her body glistening…

"Mmmm…Aaron…"

"Yeah, baby?" Hotch hummed against the nape of her neck, smiling at the goosebumps that littered her skin in result.

"What are you doing to me?" Emily's voice was dazed, drunk with pleasure. "You make me feel so good," she panted.

"I'm just doing what the doctor ordered," he murmured, caressing and washing her skin slowly. "Haynes said in the beginning that a sponge bath every day is good for you and -"

Hotch was cut off with an impassioned kiss. "Don't mention him while we're like this," she breathed. "The moment's too perfect."

Slowly, a smile spread across his lips. "I can do that," he assured, his fingers dancing along her waist.

"Hmmm. You know what would make the moment even more perfect, though?"

Hotch glanced around the room, checking to see what he missed. "Candles?" Emily shook her head. "Then tell me."

"A nice, deep Merlot," she said almost wistfully. "What I'd give for a glass of wine right now…"

He frowned sympathetically. "Too bad you can't have any alcohol."

"Yeah. Too bad." She let her eyes fall closed.

"We have Perrier in the fridge," he offered. "And ginger ale. Can you even have ginger ale?"

Emily gave an elegant shrug in response. "I'll have to ask."

At that, they fell silent, the only sound in the room the quiet lapping of the lukewarm bath water as Hotch ran the loofah over her legs.

Then, finally, as the water began to cool: "Aaron?"

"Emily?"

"Do you…do you think I try to hard? To be normal," she added, staring at the sage green decorative tile on the wall before her.

A beat passed. "That's an interesting way of putting it." He sighed. "No, I don't think you try too hard. You're a compassionate, wonderful woman with a beautiful life ahead of her. I…I just wish you'd see that your compassion isn't expected by every single person in the world. Every once and a while, you're _allowed_ to care for yourself instead of putting everyone else first. But no, you don't try too hard and…and you'll never have to."

Emily turned to face him then, maneuvering in the tub so that she was straddling his thighs, her damp body slack against his. "That's almost exactly what Reid said. Only, he -"

This time, it was she who was interrupted by a kiss. "Don't mention him while we're like this," Hotch said, echoing her words from earlier. "The moment's too perfect."

Her lips curved upwards. "I was about to say, 'Only, Reid doesn't understand every aspect of my life. He's sweet, but he isn't the sweetest, most wonderful man in the world.' That's _you_," she whispered against his lips. "But, if you can't handle the compliments and you want me to stop talking, I can do that, too," she finished, a teasingly playful glint in her eyes.

He chuckled. "No…no, Emily, you can say whatever you want to say. _As long as_ I get to make love to you after this," he breathed, his heavy-lidded eyes weighted with a tender, innocent desire. A desire so pure and affectionate, he felt his heart would surely burst as she shot him a glorious smile.

"I think that can be arranged."

~.~.~

They were lying in bed, limbs intertwined, drifting off to a truly blissful mindset, one of peace and undying love, when Emily's cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Emily? This is Isaac Haynes. I…hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Emily drew herself into a sitting position at the young man's voice, any traces of somnolence gone. "Doctor," she greeted. "No, you're not interrupting anything. How are you?"

"I've been well, thank you. And yourself?"

She glanced down at Hotch, whose eyes were closed. She knew he wasn't asleep; her hands were woven into his thick hair, massaging his scalp, and every beat or so, he'd let out a placated sigh. "I'm getting better every day," she said, more to herself than Haynes, but that didn't stop him from smiling.

"I can't tell you how good it is to hear that," he said sincerely.

Emily nodded idly, her gaze still on her husband. She cleared her throat when he was silent. "So…"

"Oh, right. Sorry. I just wanted to call and wish you and your family a Happy Thanksgiving," he said, his tone amicable, warm.

Emily's previously worried expression instantly softened. "Oh…thank you. That's very kind of you, Doctor."

"Please. It's Isaac."

"Thank you, Isaac," she amended.

He gave a small shrug, although he knew she couldn't see the action. "It's the least I could do. I try to make it a habit to show my patients that, even outside of office business, I really do care, and I know that sometimes, in my practice, my intent doesn't translate as well as I wish it would."

"Well, your intent is very much appreciated," Emily assured. "It's very kind of you. You do this for each one of your patients?"

"I do. I've a couple more to call tonight, in fact." He shook his head. "Really, with my job, it's hard to have a strictly positive outlook on life, but connecting with patients gives me the bit of optimism I need. If that made any sense," he added, chuckling ruefully.

"It does. And to your credit, not many would be able to do your job and do it well. I know I wouldn't."

"I have my own doubts, too, sometimes," Haynes admitted. "In myself, in the world. The things I see each day…" His voice trailed away, and Emily knew exactly what he was feeling; for that was the very same reason why she had left the BAU after Avery's birth. "But then I remember the reason I went to med-school in the first place, and my faith in myself is renewed."

"Why did you?" Emily asked conversationally, having the feeling that the young man didn't get the chance to speak his mind very often.

He smiled to himself. "It's a long story."

Emily watched as Hotch rolled out of bed, his own phone ringing. "I have time."

Haynes gazed at his hands before recounting. "My sister, Audrey…she was only eight when she began having these painful headaches that refused to go away." He cleared his throat. "I was twelve when we found out that she had a brain tumor. _Three _brain tumors."

"Oh my God…"

"She's fine now," he paused at Emily's relieved sigh, "but I remember that it had reached the point where she was in so much pain after her radiation and chemo treatments that every single day, I'd feel nauseous when she did, I wouldn't eat when she didn't, my head hurt when hers did. _Every single day_ she had to go through that, and it just about killed my parents."

Emily's eyes were shut tightly. _Every single day?_ Suddenly, she felt as if _her_ strength and faith in herself had been renewed. Because even if it didn't seem like it, she really did have something to be thankful for; _her_ chemo was only once every three weeks.

"Of course, she'd get a break a couple days per month," Haynes said, sensing Emily's silence, before returning to their previous topic of conversation, "but I remember, it was right after Audrey's last surgery that I realized I hadn't been able to do too much to help her, and I wanted to be the one to ensure others' recovery. So, now…here I am."

Emily was speechless for a long moment.

"I guess I should have told you that it's a depressing story as well as a long one," Haynes said, biting his lip.

"No," Emily dismissed. "You said she's okay?"

"She's currently studying medical research at Columbia," he said in means of an answer, and Emily smiled at the pride she heard in his voice.

"Then your story isn't depressing at all. Quite the contrary, actually." And she spoke the truth, because at that moment, she felt truly _inspired_ by the tale of the eight year old survivor.

"I'm glad." Haynes felt a weight disappear from his shoulders. "Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, Emily."

"You, too, Isaac. You, too."

~.~.~

"So, my mother called," Hotch said from the doorway of their bedroom, watching intently as Emily shrugged on his shirt and wandered around the room, dressed in nothing else. "She was wondering if we'd be interested in going over to her place tomorrow for some Thanksgiving dinner."

Emily immediately grinned. "Are you kidding? You actually had to ask me? Honey, you know I love your mother."

He approached her with slow strides, his strong arms eventually wrapping around her waist. "And you know she loves you, too," he said, smiling against her neck. "So...is that a yes?"

"A very strong yes," Emily agreed, sighing contentedly.

"Then she'll be thrilled," Hotch replied. "Oh, and Sean's probably going to be there, too," he added, checking his phone.

Emily's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with something so beautifully mischievous. "Mmmm, even better," she practically purred, forcing back her laughter.

Hotch spun her around. "Excuse me?" he teased, one eyebrow raised.

Emily just laughed. "I love your brother, too, you know," she managed, after Hotch let loose her lips from his needy ones. "_And_ I haven't seen him in _way_ too long. Can't judge a girl for missing him. Him and his perfect gold-blonde hair, amazing cooking, deep brown gaze -"

Though he knew she was only messing with him, Hotch's eyes flashed. "Alright, Mrs. Hotchner, we're going back to bed." And at that, he lifted her up and placed her on their mattress, before covering her body with his and hunting across her bare, supple skin with his lips.

Her breathy laughter set his blood afire, his heart beating wildly as she shot him her most gorgeous smile. "Oh, Aaron. You're so cute when you're jealous."

And then, their lips met, and all words were lost.

~.~.~

"Oh my God, Andrea. You shouldn't have."

Her brown hair streaked with silver, Andrea Hotchner gave her daughter-in-law a crinkly-eyed smile. "Nonsense, darling."

Emily ran her gaze over the gold-organza-covered dining table, on top of which were several bowls of butternut squash soup, wild rice, stuffed mushrooms, a side of cranberry aragula salad, flatbread and hot spinach-artichoke dip, fresh cranberry sauce, a multitude of pies - pumpkin, pecan, sweet potato, and more - and, of course...a turkey. It looked beautiful.

And absolutely delicious.

"I would have come over an hour or two earlier to help out if I had known dinner would be this extravagant," Emily sighed, shaking her head as Andrea placed six intricately etched drinking glasses around the table.

"I know you would have," Andrea clucked, "but what's done is done. Now sit down and eat," she playfully admonished, smiling warmly.

Emily enveloped the other woman in a hug. "You're the best."

"I know. Now, where are the kids?" Andrea craned her neck to peer outside as she heard a joyful squeal that no doubt came from Avery. "And the boys?"

"Probably outside greeting Sean," Emily guessed, shrugging.

And she was right. She hardly heard Andrea telling Jack and Avery to go wash their hands before she found herself in her brother-in-law's embrace, her boyish laughter filling her ears. _"There's_ my favorite sister-in-law," he grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek when he knew Hotch was watching. "And man, she looks gorgeous," he whistled.

Hotch gazed at her tenderly, taking in the orange cashmere sweater, the brown and black plaid skirt, the black leather boots... "She does," he agreed, his voice soft.

Emily couldn't suppress the slight blush that colored her cheeks. "Thank you," she told Sean, before meeting her husband's eyes, "and thank you." She smiled at the two handsome brothers. "Shall we go sit down?" she asked, cocking her head in the direction of the brightly lit dining room.

Hotch took her hand in his and smiled in return. "Of course."

~.~.~

"So, Emily, tell me; how are you, darling?"

Setting down her fork, Emily swallowed her bite of turkey and cleared her throat before answering. "I'm...I'm fine."

Seated at the head of the table, Andrea smiled. "That's wonderful. No insomnia, no fatigue, nothing?"

Hotch shifted in his seat. "Mom...please."

She looked at him carefully. "What? I haven't talked to Emily in a while; I'm just trying to be considerate," Andrea replied sincerely.

"Well, maybe Emily doesn't want to talk about _it_ over dinner," he pointed out.

Reaching past Sean, Emily took Hotch's hand and rubbed meaning patterns on it with her thumb, wordlessly calming him. "I feel better each and every day," she told Andrea with a gentle finality, effectively ending the conversation as she turned to help Avery cut the turkey into bite-sized pieces.

"We're glad," Sean said, smiling at Emily. "It's always good to see your shining face around here." Then, looking past Hotch, Sean addressed his nephew, who had been quiet for the majority of the conversation. "What about you, Jack? Anything interesting happen at school lately?"

"We don't have school for a _week_, Uncle Sean!" Avery interrupted gleefully.

"Whoa, a whole week? Lucky you!" Sean exclaimed, causing the girl to giggle.

Jack nodded at his sister's statement. "Exactly. _But_, our first soccer game of the season is in two days," he said, biting back his grin.

"I bet you're excited," Sean said, handing Hotch the basket of rolls he'd been reaching for. "You thinking of coaching again this year, Aaron?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't given it much thought. What do you think, Em?" His expression immediately changed upon seeing Emily's, however. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

She swallowed thickly, licking her suddenly dry lips. "I'm alright, Aaron."

Even Jack noticed it, though. "Are you sure, Mom? You looked like you were about to -"

But he was cut off as Emily murmured a hurried "excuse me," rose from her seat, and rushed out of the room.

Wordlessly, Hotch followed, finding her in the bathroom emptying out her stomach contents. "Breathe," he whispered, holding back her wig. "Come on, Em. In and out...just like that. Good." His lips found her shoulder as her breathing steadied. "Feel better?"

Emily nodded mutely, sighing as she flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to wash her face. "I hate being nauseous," she groaned. "That and the occasional muscle ache are the only symptoms of the chemo left. Even the fatigue isn't as bad, but the nausea is _hell_."

Hotch rubbed her back sympathetically. "I'd say I'm sorry -"

"But I hate it when you do."

"- so, think of it this way instead; you only have one more treatment left."

Slowly, a smile touched her lips. "Three more weeks."

"Three more weeks," he agreed.

Emily's head was resting on his shoulder, his arms around her waist, when they heard a knock on the door. A second later, Sean entered the room, smiling tentatively at the couple. "I thought you might want some water," the younger Hotchner brother said kindly, offering her a tall glass.

Emily's expression softened as she took it from his extended hand. "Sean...thank you."

Hotch nodded, smiling gratefully at his brother as Emily downed the cold beverage. "Really. Thank you."

Sean grinned, then shook his head. "Don't mention it."

~.~.~

No one spoke of the incident as Hotch and Emily re-entered the dining room. Instead, once all the Hotchners were seated again, Andrea passed out the pumpkin pie before clearing her throat and making a small toast.

"I just wanted to say that I'm really, truly thankful that you all are here today. It's not often that we get to spend time together, all six of us, but when we do, I always enjoy it. Being surrounded by family and so much love is really the best blessing I could ever wish for." She smiled. "So, seeing as it is Thanksgiving, why don't we go around the table and...say what we're thankful for this year? Avery, you first, darling."

The six year old's eyes widened at being put on the spot, but as Emily put her hand on the her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, Avery bit her lip and looked around the table. "I...I don't know what to say," she mumbled.

Hotch gave her his sweetest smile. "What makes you happy, sweetheart? You're thankful for whatever makes you happy, I know."

Avery gazed at her hands. "I...I'm thankful for my stuffed animals and dolls for keeping me company," she said quietly. "Because they make me happy. And I'm thankful for Daddy and Mommy and Jack when they read me stories at bedtime. And I'm happy when Mommy feels good, so...I'm thankful that Mommy has good medicine to make her feel better." She looked at her mom. "That's it."

Emily pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you more."

Andrea smiled at the scene before her, before turning to her left. "Jack?"

Jack let out a sigh, organizing his thoughts. "I'm thankful for the chance to be captain of the soccer team. I'm...thankful for this really good food. Thanks, Grandma," he smiled. "I'd be _really_thankful if Dad coached this year," he said, looking at Hotch. "And...well, I'm thankful that Mom only has three more weeks until she'll be well again. Because she's gone through a lot and she's helped me through a lot, and I just want her to be healthy."

A tender silence filled the air as mother and son locked gazes, before Hotch cleared his throat. "I'm thankful for the opportunity to visit my wonderful mother on a beautiful day like today. I'm thankful for the sweetest son and daughter I could ever ask for, because they're the light of my life and, especially over this past year, they've reminded me that I need to live a little, instead of being a stiff, emotionless rock." He smiled as the kids giggled. "I'm thankful for seeing my brother after all this time, even though he's still an annoying little brat with a crush on my wife."

Sean laughed loudly. "I love you, too, Aaron."

Hotch smirked, but immediately sobered as he met Emily's gaze. "And most of all, I'm thankful to have such a strong, beautiful soul like Emily in my life. Because she's my heart. She keeps me grounded. She means the world to me, and I can't even put into words how grateful I am that her treatments are almost over because I know we have a glorious life ahead of us, and I can't wait to spend every waking moment with her."

Emily bit her lip. "You're going to make me cry," she murmured, laughing as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "I love you so much," she mouthed.

"Not as much as I love you."

Sean grinned, looking at the two, then looked down at his hands. "I'm thankful that my restaurant is still going strong. I'm thankful for such an amazing family to keep me upright and be there for me when I need them most. I'm thankful for my annoying older brother, because without him I wouldn't have an adorable niece and nephew, and without him, I'd probably've never met Emily." Emily laughed as Hotch rolled his eyes. "I'm thankful for my beautiful sister-in-law because she never fails to make me laugh when I need a pick-me-up, and she's one of the sweetest people I know. I'm especially thankful for my mother's goodwill and her amazing cooking. And I'm thankful that we could all come together this fine day and celebrate so much life and love. Because, really, I think that's what this family does best," he said, smiling at everyone around the table.

Emily paused before taking her turn. She was the last one to speak, but yet, she didn't know what to say. Because there was so much she was thankful of..._so much._ "If I were to say everything I'm thankful for this year, I could probably go on for hours. But, really...thank you, Andrea, for this wonderful dinner. You're a remarkable woman and you care so much for me; your consideration really means a lot. I'm thankful for my brother-in-law for keeping Aaron on his toes," Sean laughed, "and for being a bright, lovely person who I know I can talk to about anything. I'm _so_ incredibly thankful for my beautiful children. Jack, Avery...to say you're the light of my life doesn't even come close. I love you both so much, and I am so lucky to have you both in my life. Whenever I'm feeling down, neither of you ever fail to make me smile again. And that's such a blessing." Finally, she met Hotch's gaze. "And then there's you. Aaron...without you, I don't know what I'd do, or who I'd be. You renew my strength every day, you keep me sane, you shower me with your love. I can't even try to express to you how much you mean to me. But I do know that I'd never've been able to endure these past couple of months without your infallible support. You're the best, and I love you so incredibly much. So much."

Hotch couldn't even form coherent words after hearing Emily speak. Rising from his chair, he walked around the table until he was kneeling in front of Emily, her hands in his. "I want to kiss you," he murmured, so softly that only she could hear.

Her resulting smile was dazzling. "I'm not so sure you want to after that incident of mine in the bathroom..."

"Nonsense." And then his lips were on hers, and she tasted like pumpkins, and cinnamon, and spice, and_ Emily_...and even when Sean began cheering, and Andrea toasted to 'love and life and happiness', Hotch didn't want to let go.

So he didn't.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>**Thank you so much for taking the time to read. If you can, please leave me some feedback - your reviews are the best motivation and inspiration for me, and I treasure them like the finest gold. I sincerely hope you and your family have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday!**

* * *

><p><strong>Also, t<strong>he<strong>** FINAL Profiler's**** Choice**** Awards ****ballot ****is ****up! I cannot tell you how grateful I am; _Daddy's Little Girl_ got nominated for Best Hotch/Emily, and _Memento Mori_ got nominated for Best Post-Ep. I'm truly honored. If you have the time and would like to vote, the ballot and rules are at the short link here (copy/paste and remove the spaces):****

**d . pr/N11A**

******Ballots are due November 30th! And again, thank you all so very much.******


	17. Fly Away

**Author's Note: I definitely did not expect this chapter to be anywhere as long as this, but my muse decided to run with it, and I can only pray that you enjoy where it took me, and where I consequently took the story. Alas, here it is: the day of Emily's last treatment. As always, thank you for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Early morning sunshine streaming through the open blinds, Hotch awoke slowly, stretching his arms over his head in the process. It was guaranteed to be a long day, but a good one at that. He yawned quietly, not wanting to disturb Emily…<p>

…but turning over to face her side of the bed, he saw that she wasn't there.

Reaching over, he frowned and his eyebrows furrowed as he felt the startlingly cold sheets. Cold sheets meant that she'd gotten out of the bed quite some time ago.

_So, where was she?_

Suddenly remembering her daily violent bouts of nausea, he stumbled out of bed and into their bathroom, fear coursing through his veins. "Sweetheart? Em?"

He was met with silence.

"Emily?"

Full-on panicking now, he went from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, calling her name. But still, _he couldn't find her._

Until, finally, on his second trip to the living room, something caught his eye.

The TV was on, programmed to some channel where a meteorologist was predicting seven straight days of rain. The volume was muted, and even over the song of birds chirping outside, Hotch could make out the distinct sound of evened out breathing. Immediately, he strode to the front of the room, so the back of the couch was no longer to him…

…and there, curled up on the cushions, fast asleep, was Emily.

His heartbeat gradually slowed as he dropped to his knees beside her, but as he _really_ looked at her, his frown stayed in place. She was curled up in the oddest of positions - one hand over her head, the other dangling to the ground, her legs straight but her upper body twisted over to the side at her waist - and Hotch knew why.

Myositis, Doctor Haynes had called it, when they had dropped by at the clinic with concerns. Emily had been having acute muscle pains in every imaginable spot on her body, some so tender that they had reddened her skin. But they couldn't do a single thing about it. Emily couldn't take the corticosteroids and anti-inflammatory drugs offered because of her chemotherapy. All she could do was rest, Haynes advised. Rest and find some way to get stress relief.

She tried yoga for a couple days, she even used the gift certificate for a spa day that Morgan had given her. But even after the heat massage, her muscles protested.

In the end, her only solution was to wait for it to pass.

Hotch sighed, about to lean in for a kiss and wake her, when he noticed something else. His expression softening exponentially, he slowly shifted the pillow Emily was resting against, her new position confirming his suspicions.

Emily wasn't wearing her wig.

He didn't know how he _hadn't_ noticed it; the throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch had only partially shielded her head from his vision, after all, and the hairpiece itself was resting on the nearby coffee table, which he was leaning against for support. But before he knew it, he was smiling, his first true smile of the day.

"Emily," he crooned softly. "Honey, wake up."

She shifted slightly, but refused to open her eyes.

Hotch chuckled, one hand coming up to gently caress the side of her face. "Emmy," he murmured, kissing her temple. "It's time to get up."

Groaning, she forced herself into a proper sitting position, blinking confusedly as she realized she wasn't in their bedroom.

_Then where…?_

The still-on TV sparked her memory of the night before.

"Damn it," she mumbled, reaching for the remote.

"Good morning to you, too," he quipped, shutting up when she rose to claim his lips in a kiss, a gorgeously affectionate look in her eyes despite his teasing jab. "You didn't come to bed last night?"

Emily's eyes widened imperceptibly at the almost sad tone in his voice. "I did," she said immediately. Then, softer: "I…I did. But…I got up around one in the morning because I heard something in the kitchen," she explained. "It was just Jack, getting a glass of water. Afterwards, we," she smiled, "we had quite the interesting conversation."

"Really?" Hotch took the hand she was offering him and moved to sit beside her on the couch. "About what?"

She grinned. "Nutella."

"What?"

"You know, that hazelnut and chocolate spread you like -"

"Yeah, I know why it is," he laughed. "But of all topics to discuss, why...?"

Emily rested her head on his shoulder. "I asked him if he wanted me to make him a PB and J sandwich but he said he didn't like jelly that much; not as much as Nutella, anyway. We talked for a couple more minutes before he went back to bed. And then I turned the TV on for some background noise while I sifted through that pile of bills," she said, nodding to the many opened letters on the floor. "But I guess I fell asleep," she sighed resignedly.

Hotch was quiet for a while, before saying the one thing that had been on his mind since she had started talking. "Em…you _are_ getting enough sleep at night, right? Your insomnia is gone?"

She quelled his fears with another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip the way she knew he liked it. "One hundred percent gone," she promised.

"But…you said…one o'clock in the morning…"

Emily silenced his worried stammering once more, this time with a long slender finger against his lips. Cupping his face in her hands, she brought his warm gaze to hers. "Jack was just being loud, that's all," she dismissed. "I promise you, Aaron…I'm fine."

Hotch smiled in relief before giving her one last kiss. "I'm glad."

"Now, that being said," she yawned, "why on _earth_ would you wake me up this early?"

His smile grew - if possible - even wider. "Because, sweetheart…today's the big day."

He watched as realization finally dawned on her features. Before he knew it, she had enveloped him in an overjoyed hug.

"Oh my God," she moaned into the crook of his neck. _"Oh my God, Aaron."_

Hotch held her for a long moment, rocking her back and forth as they shared happy tears. "Can you believe it?" he breathed. "Eighteen weeks, Emily. It's been eighteen weeks since you were first diagnosed."

Since their lives were turned upside down.

"Eighteen weeks," she repeated, shaking her head. "It's been so long, but…I feel like…like it's been _years_."

And Hotch couldn't help but agree. Unwillingly, he remembered hearing her cry herself to sleep at night, _every_ night, he remembered how she had almost lost faith in the world…and then, that day he had found her, in her upstairs office, writing a will…

A shiver ran down his spine at the memories. They had come a long way since then. And they planned on never looking back.

"Just think of it this way," he said, after realizing that he'd been quiet for much too long. "In a week or two, all of your symptoms will be gone for good. _For good_. In fact…I already see some hair growing back," he said, his dark eyes shining lovingly as he carefully ran a hand over the smattering of dark fuzz on her head that had begun to grow again.

However, Emily recoiled from his touch as if she'd just been slapped. "Oh, God, I didn't realize that I wasn't wearing…" Her voice trailed away and she immediately reached past him for her wig.

What she didn't expect was for Hotch to protest. Gently taking hold of Emily's wrist, he looked at her with dark, pleading eyes. "Hey," he whispered, visibly pained at her sudden frenzied behavior. "Don't."

She turned away, her fists clenched. "Aaron. Don't do this. Not now," she murmured.

His face crumbled. "Emily, you're _beautiful_." _Please…understand._ "What do I have to do to prove it to you?" he practically cried.

Silence was his answer.

"You know that I couldn't care whether or not you have hair," he said lightly, wincing when he realized that he probably could have rephrased his words better.

"But _I _care!" she sighed, purposely not meeting his eyes. She knew he was just trying to be his regular sweet self, but when would he see that she just wasn't comfortable? She felt pressured and she hated it. "Aaron -"

"You never take it off for me," Hotch whispered, more to himself than her, really.

"I take everything else off for you," Emily quipped, but her voice shook at the very end.

He tried for a smile, but failed. "I love you. So much, Em. I want to see _you_, no synthetics. Just beautiful, perfect you. You don't need to depend on it anymore."

She shut her eyes as he hit the nail on the head. She knew what he was doing; trying to build her self-confidence and dash away all semblances of insecurity. And so far, he had done a remarkable job. Her mind flashing back to the glorious night when they'd last made love, she remembered how far he had brought her, how far from her initial fears she was. But now, it seemed like she was right back at square one.

"Please? Not even for the entire day; just…an hour. Just our trip to the clinic," Hotch begged, hoping that she'd see he wasn't asking her to do it for him; he wanted her to do it for herself. _Free yourself, Emily._

Her eyes finally flashed up to his. "I'll wear a scarf," she said finally, tightly, before pushing herself up off the couch and turning down the hall to rummage through her closet.

Watching as she walked away, Hotch knew that he should feel like they'd finally taken that penultimate step in the right direction; she was getting stronger, more confident, more secure…

…but, his gaze following her retreating figure, all he felt was the ice cold dread that maybe…maybe he'd pushed her too far this time.

~.~.~

Doctor Haynes's face blossomed into a smile as he injected Emily with the chemo cocktail for the - hopefully - last time, his gaze rising from the crook of her elbow to meet her warm brown eyes. "I know it's too early to feel the relief yet, but…it's over, Emily. This is your _last_ treatment. Now, of course, once all the residual side effects have subsided, I'll call you back in for a follow-up meeting. But other than that and the annual mammogram, I don't _ever_ want to see you in this clinic again, understood?"

Emily couldn't help it; she grinned, her oncologist's light, playful tone soothing any nerves. "Understood," she practically laughed.

"Congratulations," Haynes said sincerely, looking intently at Emily, then Hotch, knowing that the two had come a long way.

"Thank you," they answered in unison, sharing a quick smile before Emily dropped her gaze to her hands at the doctor's next words.

"_And_, I see you've stopped using your wig," he said, a tinge of pride in his tone. "That calls for even more congratulations. Now, I have something to explain; often, when patients have their hair grow back after chemotherapy, they'll notice that it's not the same as before they began their treatment. Whether that means, for you, that your hair will be a lighter brown or a darker brown, or a straighter or curlier volume, I don't know. But you needed to know."

"So, if I sprout blonde curls, don't worry?" she joked.

Haynes laughed. "Something like that." Sobering only slightly, he paused before saying, "I'm glad to see you're healing…both physically and mentally," he said, not noticing the half-hearted catch in Emily's voice as she thanked him once more. "Cancer is a trying disease. Many only know so from movies or stories they hear from others; but out of those who actually fight through it, you're one of the few I've encountered who has remained so stable and...grounded. Cancer takes a toll on you; not just your body, but your mind as well, as I know from experience with my sister, that to experience it or be around someone who is experiencing it is so emotionally draining. I'm just glad to see you recovering, and I wish you well."

At that, the three of them stood in the small room. "Thank you, Doctor," Hotch said, clearing his throat against the lump that was building. "I cannot even - _we_ cannot even put into words how grateful we are."

"Don't thank me," Haynes dismissed kindly. "Knowing that I can help at least one person and the people they love is what I love to do, and seeing your wife get better," he smiled at Emily, "has been all the thanks that I need." There was a pause, then, "And please. It's Isaac."

"Isaac," Hotch amended, taking the younger man's outstretched hand in his and giving it a firm, thankful shake.

Then, Emily.

_Oh, Emily._

When she approached the doctor, Hotch thought he could see the beginning of tears shining in her eyes. "Isaac…I can't not say it. Thank you, for everything you've done. Not just administering the treatment…but…being relatable, and bothering to associate with your patients, it means so much more. You made each treatment personal and distracted from whatever symptoms I may have been feeling. I-I don't want to think of what would have happened if I had never found your name in the hospital register. Thank you for treating me," she said tearily.

"Hopefully we can change that to 'thank you for curing me'," Haynes added. "I'll still be here in five years. So will you," he said confidently. "Congratulations again, Emily. Believe me when I say I'm so happy for you."

"I do," Emily responded sincerely. Unable to resist, she gave the younger man a hug which he readily returned. "Thank you again."

"You're more than welcome. Godspeed, Emily."

~.~.~

"And now…we celebrate."

Emily looked over at Hotch, giving him a tired smile as she fidgeted with the knot of her pale yellow scarf. "I'd like that."

Getting out of the car, he came around to the passenger side door, opening it for Emily and taking her hand in his as she climbed out as well. "Where do you want to go?" he asked, leaning in for a kiss.

Lazily letting her lips flirt with his, Emily sighed and rested her forehead against his, their gazes locking. Even after eight years of marriage, the intensely loving look in his eyes could still make her heart flutter. "Wherever the kids want to go," she answered. "I want them to get out and enjoy themselves for once."

'Wherever the kinds want to go' ended up being the movie theatre two blocks from their house. Emerging from the theatre after watching the latest installment in the _Alvin and the Chipmunks_ series, Avery immediately grabbed her mother's hand and began skipping.

"So, you're _really really_ better now, Mommy?" the girl asked, her grin wide and her eyes bright.

Emily smiled. "Remember, sweetheart, Mommy won't know that she's truly better until five years from now," she reminded, giving her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze nonetheless.

"_But_ you feel better already, don't you?"

"I do," Emily agreed, finding the strength to pick Avery up and twirl her around. "With you in my arms, of course I feel better."

Avery's grin grew - if possible - even wider, before she leaned in and pressed a sloppy kiss to Emily's cheek. "Good."

Hotch smiled at the interaction, knowing that Avery never failed to lift Emily's spirits. "So, Jack…Avery…where to next?"

"Ice cream!" Jack immediately piped up, much to his little sister's delight.

"Ice cream?" The two adults laughed. "Jack, buddy, it's the middle of November."

"Please?" both Jack and Avery chorused.

Emily rested her hand on Jack's shoulder, nodding. "Sure, we'll go get ice cream. But after dinner."

"Which begs the question," Hotch tacked on, interrupting the two children's groans, "where do we want to go for dinner?"

The immediate consensus was, of course, Johnny Rocket's, the siblings' favorite place to eat practically since birth.

"Does Johnny Rocket's sound okay?" Hotch asked, turning to Emily.

"Of course," she instantly replied, rubbing Jack's back soothingly as they walked to the parking lot. "There's one in Georgetown, isn't there?"

"I think so," Hotch nodded, pulling out his phone to check.

"And then we'll get ice cream?" Avery piped up.

"And then we'll get ice cream," Emily answered, smoothing an errant curl from the young girl's face.

Avery's skipping became even more joyful. "Today is the best day ever," she sighed contentedly.

Over the two chattering children, Hotch managed to hold Emily's gaze. "It is," he agreed, his brown eyes communicating so much. "It really is."

~.~.~

"Mmmm…"

Emily laughed. "Someone's enjoying their milkshake," she said, teasing Hotch, who was seated across from her, along with Avery. Jack was huddled at her side.

"I am," Hotch agreed, laughing in return as well. "Mainly because it seems to be torturing Jack."

Jack shot his father a look, but no one could mistake the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're mean, Dad."

"Who are you kidding? You love me. Besides, you get ice cream and I don't."

"You says you don't?" Emily retorted, flushing slightly as she felt Hotch's foot playing along her leg.

"I'd like to keep my blood pressure low, sweetheart," he replied smartly, taking another long sip of the chocolate shake and sputtering slightly as Emily's foot in turn crept up his leg and close to his thigh.

"Good answer." She smiled over at Avery, who was swirling her chicken fingers in the ketchup to make patterns. "Are you enjoying your dinner, Avery?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yes." The girl giggled, finally taking a bite of the chicken. "S'good," she mumbled, her mouth full.

"And you, Jack?"

He grinned happily, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he swallowed a bite of his burger. "Yeah, you know I love Johnny Rocket's. What about you?"

Emily's expression softened, nodding down to her almost empty plate. "Best burger _ever_."

"I wonder why," Hotch teased, taking hold of her hand across the table and toying with her opal and tourmaline ring and cocking his head towards the kids. "You want to tell them now?" he murmured, his voice so low that it was inaudible to any ears other than Emily's.

"Will they understand?" Emily countered with a crinkly-eyed smile, unable to take her eyes off of the sparkling jewels and the contrast of his rough fingers against hers.

"Probably not," he chuckled, trailing a finger over the arch of her socked foot and full-on laughing as she squeaked out an unexpected laugh.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Avery asked, curiously looking over at her mother and wondering what on earth could have caused such a reaction.

Emily bit her lip. "I'm fine, baby. _But_ your daddy and I do have something to tell you." She turned to Jack. "And you, honey."

Finishing his burger, Jack nodded before sitting back and relaxing his shoulders against the red padded booth. "What is it?"

Hotch cleared his throat. "We're well aware this may not make much sense to you both, but…your mother and I are getting married."

"But…you're _already_ married," Avery said innocently, a tad bit confused as she turned to face her brother and heard him say something along the same lines.

"We're not _really _getting married again; we're doing something called 'renewing our vows'. Married couples usually do so after passing a significant anniversary or milestone…or after going through a hardship and wanting to restate their love and commitment for each other," Emily explained tenderly.

"So, now that your treatments are over, you and Dad are going to renew your vows?" Jack said, comprehension dawning on his features as he connected the two events.

"That's right," Emily answered. "Because there's no way I would have been able to endure therapy without your father's help. He's a very special man," she said lovingly, meeting his handsome gaze.

Kissing her hand, Hotch smiled. "We were thinking of a small ceremony, maybe in our backyard; just us, Grandpa Richard, Grandma Elizabeth, and Grandma Andrea, and the team. What do you guys think?"

"We'd have to move the swing set," Jack pointed out. "But other than that, the yard's big enough. And that sounds good," the boy smiled in agreement.

Emily smiled at her son, before turning to Avery. "Well, sweetheart?"

"Does this mean we get to go dress-shopping again?" she asked, her eyes already sparkling with an inexhaustible excitement.

Hotch chuckled heartily. "I guess I can give you girls the permission to wear out my credit card _one_ more time," he answered, feigning reluctance.

Avery full-on beamed. "I can't wait!"

Delighted laughter drowned out all else.

~.~.~

His drowsy-sounding murmur broke the silence.

"Do your muscles still hurt?"

Emily felt her skin tingle as Hotch helped her out of her shirt and guided her to rest with her head at the foot of the bed. "Just a bit tender," she sighed, taking in a deep breath as his hands came up to her shoulder blades and began to undo the knots he found there.

"Feel good?" he asked after a beat, digging in especially in the center of her back, knowing she liked it based on the keening moan that fell from her lips.

"Yeah," she answered, her mind wiped blank.

"Expect the team to be blowing up your phone tomorrow," Hotch warned, knowing that, because of the calendar Garcia had made, their five friends had been anxiously waiting for the day of Emily's last treatment for…forever.

Emily laughed. "I would expect nothing less," she agreed. She was about to speak once more, but fell quiet as she felt gently persistent lips hunt down her spine. "That's not much of a back rub," she teased, her breath catching in the back of her throat as he sucked on the skin right below the nape of her neck.

"I can't help it," he said against her skin, his own breathing labored. There was a long pause while he cared for her, before he spoke again. "Emily?"

"Hmmm? Aaron?"

"I'm sorry about the wig incident earlier today," he finally said. The moment they had gotten home for the night, she had discretely slipped off her scarf and put her wig back on, the tight set of her back immediately loosening with a comforted security. "I didn't mean to pressure you into anything, sweetheart, and I now realize that the only thing I did was make you uncomfortable, make you do something you didn't want to do. You know I just want what's best for you, but I'm really sorry that I -"

Emily cut him off by rolling to her side to face him, and snuggling into his chest so that her bare chest was pressed against his clothed one. "Don't go down that road," she chided gently.

"I _pushed_ you into something you explicitly didn't want to do," he said again. "I'm supposed to support you, not force decisions upon you," he said bitterly, shaking his head in frustration. His eyelids dropped as Emily pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of his throat.

"You did it with the best intentions; I know that," she assured. "Everything you've done in the past months has helped me cope." At that, she sighed. "I admit…I've never wanted to take it off - in front of you, in front of anyone - because it just feels _wrong_ to be without it. Not just physically; because yes, my head _does _get cold sometimes. But when I look in the mirror, I want to see an Emily that is familiar, a healthy, cancer-free Emily, not one who has lost all her hair and looks significantly different. When I look in the mirror, I don't want to be reminded of everything that has gone wrong. Over the weeks, it's become a sort of…security blanket for me, you know? Something that helps me forget my insecurities. But, at the same time, my treatments are _over_; it's about time I come to terms with it and live comfortably in my own skin, without anything to shelter me from my reality. The longer I'm sheltered, the longer it'll hurt me in the end. I hate it, but it's true." She brought up a hand to touch his jaw and run her thumb along the skin there. "I know all you were trying to do is make me stronger and help me, but my guard immediately snapped up at any mention of leaving behind the wig…leaving my comfortable little cocoon. That's what it is, really. It's time to start on a new page, after all. I guess it's time for me to just…fly away," she said, continuing with her butterfly metaphor. "Fly away and _live_."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Hotch breathed, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. _This _was why he loved her. Not just for her beauty or humor, or how she great a mother she was. It was her infallible strength and wisdom in the face of hardship.

"Now, I believe you owe me the rest of a back rub…and maybe a neck rub, too." He watched in awe of her suddenly renewed self confidence and will as she took off the wig, "So you can have better access," she explained.

Kissing the newly exposed skin, he held her close, skillfully massaging her back in process and reveling in her ensuing assortment of sighs, moans, and pleased groans. "You are so strong, Emily. The strongest woman I know. The most beautiful," he ground out, his eyes shut tightly as he lavished her with every bit of love and attention he could muster.

For once, she absorbed the compliment wholeheartedly, answering with nothing but a soft, "Aaron?"

Hotch brought his lips to her ear. "Yeah?"

"Do something for me?"

"Anything," he said, as always.

"Just…hold me. And never let go."

Tightening his hold on her waist and pulling her as close to him as possible, a true smile blossomed on his face as he brought a hand up to caress hers. _"Always," _he vowed. "And hey…Emmy?"

Emily arched her back and twisted in his embrace to face him. "Yeah?"

"Congratulations."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thoughts? Please feel free to leave me a review, if you have the time! You know I love hearing from you. <strong>


	18. Lavender Sunshine

**Author's Note: I'm back, finally. Sorry about the long delay between updates; between work, exams, and life in general, I've had absolutely no time to be creative. But that's the past! Also, thank you ever so much to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. I'm so sorry that I couldn't respond to each one of you personally, but I really do appreciate the time you put into reading and reviewing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter; Chapter Nineteen will be the real ending, and Chapter Twenty will be an optional one that I still very much recommend reading.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>It was completely quiet in the house, save for the sporadic puttering of the coffee maker on the kitchen counter. Hotch stood before it, idly staring at the dripping dark liquid, his mind somewhere far, far away. He was so focused that he almost dropped his coffee mug when he felt two long, lean arms wrap around his waist and circle to his front.<p>

"Christ, Emily," he breathed, laughing a split second later. "You scared me."

"Sorry," she murmured with a smile, stretching on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the side of his neck. "Good morning," she greeted against his skin.

"Good morning to you, too. I was just about to make breakfast. Anything you want in particular?"

Her lips were still on his skin when she answered, "You."

Even after eight years, his heart still skipped a beat at her words. "Sweetheart?" Hotch asked quietly, finally turning to face her and claim her mouth in an actual kiss.

"Mmmm…remember? I'm going dress-shopping today. Which means I'm going to be severely lacking in Aaron-time," Emily pouted cutely. "I need to stock up somehow, don't I?"

"Sounds about right," he ground out as her hands rubbed swooping circles on his back.

"Besides…the kids won't wake up for another hour. We deserve some alone time, don't you think?"

Hotch didn't answer, only lifted her into his arms and began the trek to their bedroom. His mind was running circles as she kissed every inch of his face; she was happy, finally happy, and offered him smiles more often. He loved seeing her like this, seeing her like she had been before the diagnosis. Slowly but surely, she was regaining her confidence and carefree spirit, and he couldn't be more proud.

Little did he know, Emily's mind was racing as well, with thoughts somewhat different to his own. It was only when he laid her on the bed and gazed into her eyes when he saw it.

They had gotten so good at reading each other that he didn't even have to ask the question on his mind; with just a single arched eyebrow and his telltale concerned visage, Emily let out a sigh, toying with his fingers while she said, "I need a distraction. Aaron, I need _you_." Silence lapsed. "Please."

His hands skirted along the sides of her waist. "A distraction from what?"

"That's not important," she shrugged off.

"Emily," he chided, his expression saddening.

Her eyes fell closed at his touch. "I've just been…thinking. That's all."

"About?"

It was a long time before she answered. Then, "Our five-year wait."

He bit his lip, his mind flashing back to his earlier musings. _Was _she happy? Now he couldn't even be sure. "And…?" he prodded.

Pulling off his shirt and resting against his bare chest, she murmured, "What if it comes back?"

_Oh, God._

"It won't," Hotch said immediately, his voice hard.

"You can't be sure." When she said the words, however, her voice wasn't sad, nor was it resigned. It was almost…curious.

And that worried him all the more.

"I've thought long and hard about it," he admitted. "You have to think that it won't, sweetheart, or you'll be tormented by the knowledge every single day. But…if, God forbid, it does come back, then we'll go through radiation and chemotherapy again, until you're better," he said confidently. "And I'll be right here, by your side."

Their similarly tender gazes met. "You will?" Emily breathed, wondering to herself what on earth she could have done to deserve someone like him.

"Always."

And then, at that, he pulled her to him and loved her with every fiber of his being.

~.~.~

Hotch watched as Emily stood before her closet, picking what clothes to wear.

"I like that navy sweater," he offered, before going back to skimming through the day's newspaper as Jack and Avery gallivanted around the living room.

"You do? I haven't worn it in a while…" She pulled it out and threw it on the bed, beside her favorite pair of jeans. "Now I just need a top." A hint of a smirk played at her lips. "Any suggestions?"

"That cream colored one," he pointed.

"With the thin green stripes?"

"That's the one," he confirmed, groaning as she threw it toward the bed but accidentally hit him in the face.

She laughed. "Sorry," she murmured, moving to kiss his cheek. She lingered long enough for the coconutty scent of her still damp hair to flood his senses, before pulling back and changing out of her worn out yoga pants.

"Don't worry about it," Hotch dismissed, linking their fingers together. "So, have you called JJ and Garcia yet?"

"Actually, no," Emily sighed. "I…as much as I adore them, I know that they'd make such a big deal about going dress-shopping and the entire ordeal, and I just want this ceremony of ours to be…well, for us. Intimate, personal, small…and you know them. They would go crazy," she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners at the thought.

He chuckled. "I agree. So, in that case, who are you taking with you?"

"Avery and my mom," she said definitively, smiling to herself. "I know Avery would have a blast, and I desperately need some time with my mom. Somedays I still think she feels guilty about my childhood, and now's the time to right everything."

Hotch nodded. "Going out with Avery and your mother sounds perfect. And you said she agreed to us having the ceremony in your parents' backyard, right?"

"Mm-hmm. I told her about our plans to have it here, but she adamantly insisted to host it. And she had a point; their yard is much larger than ours."

"Of course." He leaned against her side, pausing just to listen to her breathe. "I just know that the ceremony's going to be beautiful. No matter where it is, it'll be beautiful."

Emily laced their hands together, shooting him her most loving expression. "Truer words have never been spoken."

~.~.~

"Are you going to wear a long, pretty white dress, Mommy?"

Emily swung Avery up into her arms, ignoring the worried looks Elizabeth shot her as air momentarily whooshed out of her lungs. "Not a white one, no. But a pretty dress, yes."

Avery giggled. "That rhymed!"

"It sure did," Emily responded, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "And tell you what; if you're really good today, I'll let you help grandma and me choose what color dress I wear, _and_ maybe we can stop by and get smoothies before heading home. Only if you're a good girl," Emily repeated, tickling Avery's sides.

"I am, I promise!"

The two shared an Eskimo kiss. "I believe you," Emily said softly, her brown eyes tender. "Now…" she turned to her mother, "any store suggestions?"

The three of them ended up at David's Bridal, even after Elizabeth's endless harping about having a dress tailor-made. "I love you, Mom. I really do," Emily said, squeezing her mom's shoulder. "But I don't need to spend that much money on a simple dress. That's really what I want; something elegant, but overall…something simple."

"Alright, alright," Elizabeth conceded, managing a smile. "Floor-length, or knee-length?"

"Knee-length."

"You sure? You're going to be outside in the middle of February…"

Emily could picture it in her mind already; the white lace covered tables in her parents' backyard, the flowers, the fresh green grass…and Hotch, standing by her side, her hands in his… "I'm sure," she nodded, blinking away the far-away look in her eyes.

"You should wear pink, Mommy," Avery said, going from row through row full of the satiny dresses.

"But you already chose a pink dress for me, remember?" Emily reminded, fingering a canary yellow dress before moving on. "How about you choose another color?"

"Hmmm. Okay." Avery looked around the store. Having the attention span of a fly, she wandered off to a small chair a couple feet from Emily, and began to look through a catalog that someone had errantly placed there.

"You know what color would look fabulous on you?" Elizabeth mused, pulling something off the rack. "This one," she said in answer to her own question, handing a wine-colored dress to Emily.

Emily slowly smiled as she took in the cool, smooth feel of the fabric. "It is very pretty…"

"Either that, or pool blue. It's borderline turquoise, but I bet you'd look like an angel. Oh, and I have the perfect set of earrings that would match it…"

_"Mommy!"_

Jolting out of her conversation with Elizabeth, Emily immediately spun around as Avery came bounding forth, the catalog open to a certain page. "Look! Look!"

"Shhh, Avery," Emily said, her voice hushed as she bit back her smile. "Sweetie, no yelling, okay?"

"Okay," Avery said, dropping her gaze to her feet. "Sorry." It was then, however, that she saw something that renewed her excitement. "Mommy, your toenails!"

"What about them, Ave?"

"They're still the same color as mine," she grinned.

"That's because you're the one who painted my nails, which makes them extra super special," Emily said, kneeling to her daughter's height and dropping a kiss in her hair. "Now, you had something to show me?"

"Oh, yeah! This dress!" She eagerly gave Emily the catalog. "It's the same color as our nails! Isn't it_ pretty_?" Avery gushed.

Emily looked at it closely. It was the exact same dress as the one Elizabeth had previously showed her, but instead of a faded burgundy, it was the color of refreshing lavender. Fully lined, with a short pick-up skirt and a form-fitting spaghetti strap bodice, it was easily one of the classiest, most beautiful dresses available at the store.

She had to admit, Avery had amazing fashion sense.

"Well?" Avery prodded, her eyes glittering. "Whaddaya think?"

"I think…" Emily looked over at her mother, who was looking at them with a contented smile on her face, "I think it's high time that I find this dress and try it on."

~.~.~

"You're really okay?"

Emily rose her gaze from Avery's dozing form to the gaze of her mother. They were at a nearby café, people chattering away silently in the background. Emily, who could now _finally_ have caffeine, was as satisfied as she'd been in weeks. Avery, on the other hand, had forgotten all about her strawberry-banana smoothie, and instead interested herself in sleeping against her mother's side. Emily smiled. "Yeah. I'm really okay," she answered softly, her expression softening at the look on Elizabeth's face. "Something's bothering you."

"Hmmm? No…no, nothing's bothering me, Emily. You're just tired," Elizabeth shrugged off.

Emily pursed her lips. "That excuse doesn't work on me anymore, Mom," she informed. "Remember? I kind of have a degree in behavioral science…"

Elizabeth laughed at that, but immediately, unfortunately, sobered. "Right."

"…So?" After another heavily silent beat of no conversation, Emily reached across the small coffee table and took her mother's hand in hers. "Talk to me," she implored.

It was as if Elizabeth just gave up; sighing, she gave Emily's hand a squeeze before averting her gaze. "I was just…thinking."

"About?"

"You, and…and what would have happened if you hadn't noticed the…the lump."

The subtext was clear: _If you had been diagnosed with cancer later than stage two. If your chances at survival had been significantly lowered._

_If you weren't here right now._

Emily had almost never seen her mother in such a light; her confidence was wavering, her words were stuttered, her eyes were cold.

She was almost…_human_.

"Oh, Mom," Emily breathed, the emotion almost overwhelming.

Elizabeth, once again, tried to laugh it off, but failed. "I shouldn't be thinking of such things, I know. I'm just…so glad that you're healthy again, Emily," she said, her tone more affectionate than Emily had ever heard.

Their other hands joined across the table. "And I'm glad I've gotten to see you more often these past weeks, even if I sometimes felt like doing nothing but sleeping. Your presence made me feel a little safer," Emily admitted. "I don't think I've ever told you that, but it's true."

Elizabeth took in a large breath. "And…I hate that I haven't told you this as much as I'd like to, but…Emily, you're the light of my life. I feel like I would have otherwise been a failure if I didn't have you. I can't help it; I still think of you as a little girl sometimes, but only because those were the _good_ days. The days before I put my job first, and my family second. There's nothing I regret more than not being as present in your life as you deserved me to be. And I'm so sorry for that, Emily. I know I can't possibly go back in time to make things better, but if I could, I would."

Emily suddenly felt as if tears were coming to her eyes. "I know," she whispered. "I know you would, and that's all I need to know. The past can be disregarded; all we have to do is focus on the present, on the future." She gave her mother a watery smile. "We had our moments, didn't we?"

They laughed. "If by moments, you mean me having a screaming match with you every second I could, and you getting a tattoo without my knowledge the moment you turned eighteen," Elizabeth quipped.

Emily's laughter gradually increased in volume and pitch. "So _you're_ where I got such a dry sense of humor from," she sighed, a grin seemingly permanently plastered on her face. "Oh, yes, we certainly had our moments; in fact, the tattoo was just the tip of the iceberg," she winked, "but I very much like where we are now," she finished, her voice softening once more.

"I agree." Elizabeth smoothed back Avery's hair as the girl shifted some. "We should do this more often," she said a beat later. "Get together and just…talk."

"I like the sound of that," Emily said sincerely. "Next weekend sound okay?"

"Next weekend would be perfect."

~.~.~

"I have a treat for you," Hotch murmured.

"Do you? _All_ for me?"

"Mm-hmm." He kissed her neck languidly. "Close your eyes."

She did. The next thing she knew, an ornately carved drinking glass was being brought to her lips.

Her eyes shot open as flavor exploded on her tongue. "Oh my God, I totally forgot I could have wine now," she laughed. "That makes me sound like such an alcoholic, but _really_."

"I thought about it today. Jack and I did some shopping of our own, in fact," Hotch informed, smiling. "Got some nice dress shirts for him, a new suit jacket for me. And this." He motioned to the bottle of wine on the kitchen island. "Your favorite; I'd never forget."

"That's because you're amazing." Their lips met, Hotch groaning as he tasted the drink in every little crevice of her mouth. "Y'want to see the dress I bought?"

Immediately, he grinned. "You'd let me? I thought the groom wasn't supposed to see the dress before the wedding," he teased, palming her side through the top she was wearing.

She hummed out a laugh. "We're kind of _already_ married," she reminded. "And of course I want you to see the dress. Your opinion matters to me, you know."

"That…" he kissed her, "is…brand…new…information," he managed, all the while peppering kisses on her neck.

Emily squirmed in his embrace. "Aaron," she moaned, "if you want to see the dress, you have to let me go."

"Okay, okay." Before he could even process her movements, Emily had run off to their bedroom, where the dress was hanging in the closet.

No less than five minutes had passed before Hotch heard the telltale creak of their door being opened as Emily stepped out. He heard something else…something like the swish of satin and lace...

Emily had an easy, sultry smile on her face when he finally turned to face her. "Well…" she drawled, her gaze holding his, "what do you think?"

~.~.~

**_Two months later…_**

"You're a vision," he breathed in awe, holding her in his arms.

"You're so perceptive," Emily replied, cupping his cleanly shaven face in her hands and giving him a teasing grin.

Hotch lowered his lips to hers, chuckling against her skin. "Something like that," he muttered, before moving his lips to her jaw, her ear, her neck…

"_Oh,_" she breathed as he found her most sensitive spot. "Aaron, stop," she protested halfheartedly after another long minute, wanting nothing but for him to continue. But they couldn't. "Everyone's waiting for us," she reminded.

"Everyone can wait," he grumbled. But nonetheless, he sighed and pulled away from her before he ruined her makeup or marked her skin. Still, though, he continued to gaze at her. "I love your hair."

And he did, he really did. It was longer; not long, by any means, but longer. Subtle curls fell to the tops of her ears. Her hair had grown back wavier than it had been originally, but Emily had gradually learned to accept the difference, and _like_ the difference. Never in her wild imagination would she have thought that she wouldn't protest being in front of the ones she loved in one of her most insecure states, but here she was.

And best of all, the insecurity was fast vanishing.

Emily let her lips curve into a smile. "You've said that seven times already."

"Want me to make it eight?" he said adoringly.

"You don't have to," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she took his hand in hers.

Hotch gave her a returning smile at that. "You ready?"

"Yes."

The instant they stepped out into the yard from her parents' house, the small gathering of people broke into exuberant applause, with wide grins and bright expressions on their faces. Richard and Elizabeth, of course, were among the attendees, along with Andrea, Sean, the team, and Louise, their favorite, kind-hearted neighbor. After the chattering died down and Emily and Hotch were able to visit with everyone individually, they stood at the front of the yard, facing the neatly set tables adorned with beautifully blooming sunflowers, sunflowers that seemed to echo the brightness of the sunshine dancing in Emily's hair...the brightness of the glorious day. From somewhere unknown, Hotch procured a bouquet of the loveliest violets, daffodils, and hydrangeas and gave it to Emily. It was when a blush began creeping on her cheeks that he began to speak.

"Thank you, everyone, for gathering with Emily and me today. It means so much to us; you all mean so much to us." He cleared his throat politely, his expression softening. "You all know how rough these past few months have been on us; as a family, as friends, as loved ones. It's hard to see someone you care about go through so many trying events in such rapid succession, but…we're here now, and really, that's all that matters," Hotch said, squeezing Emily's hand as he saw her nod out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't really practiced what to say, but he figured he hadn't needed to; all the necessary emotion was coming forth already. "We're here now," he repeated, "and we're ready to start over, on a new page entirely."

"That's why you all are here," Emily inserted, her gaze warm. "Aaron and I want for nothing but to continue having you all present in our lives because your constant support really goes a long way. And we want you - I want you - to know that. So, thank you. Each and every one of you, thank you for everything you have done to sustain us. We've been through more than our fair share of hard times, but we've recovered; all because of you."

"Now, um…" Hotch turned to Emily, his smile even visible in his eyes. "I think we can begin?" She nodded, taking her other hand in his as well. Their small audience was quiet, an unspeakable tenderness in the air, as Hotch began the renewal of his vows. "Emily, eight years ago, when you agreed to marry me and bless me with your happiness and love, you made me the happiest man in the world." At this moment, Hotch had forgotten there were others in the yard with them; to him, there was no one there but Emily and him.

Nothing else mattered but _her_.

"Eight years ago, we also didn't know where life would take us. It's been a bumpy road, to say the least, but I hope that today I can prove to you that, even through all the hardships, stresses, and painful moments in life - whether they be the ones we've already passed through, or the ones that we will no doubt encounter in the future - I will always be here, at your side, to love and cherish, respect and trust, and _understand_ you. Nothing in the world could make me stop loving you, Emily. Nothing at all."

Slowly, Emily brought a hand up to the side of his face to wipe away a lone tear that had made its slow descent down his cheek. Sensing that he wouldn't be able to say anymore, she shot him a watery, heartfelt smile before beginning her vows as well. "Aaron…there are no words to adequately describe to you how much have done for me; not just in these past three months or so, but in our entire marriage together. Eight years can seem so long; sometimes I feel like we've been together for more than twice that, and other times I feel like our relationship is just beginning and that there are so many other things we will discover and experience with each other." She drew in a shuddery breath. "So, thank you," she said after a beat. "Without you, I'd…I'd be lost. You're my rock. You keep me grounded, and that's more than I could ever ask for. But, yet…you've blessed me with so much more. When you're by my side, I immediately feel safe…and happy, and loved, and _strong_. Thank you for taking care of me, for your selflessness and your compassion. I know for a fact that I couldn't have endured the past three months without you. You made everything worthwhile. Thank you for the eight years you have given me; they've been the best years of my life, and I am so blessed to have you by my side. I can only hope that you know that I'll always be here for you as well. _Always._" They smiled at that. "We've always worked well together, as team members, as partners, then as something more. I hope we can continue to do that for the rest of the years to come."

"We will," Hotch managed, gripping her hands tighter as the cool breeze rippled through her wavy hair.

They were but an inch apart from each other now. Emily's voice was whisper soft when she spoke once more, her words seemingly for his ears only. "I love you so much, Aaron."

"Not as much as I love you."

And then, they melted into a single, heart-wrenchingly beautiful kiss. Finally, their wedding rings were exchanged; the same ones they'd given each other eight years ago, only this time, engraved with a message on the inside of each.

_Aaron and Emily. Amor vincit omnia._

Love conquers all.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thoughts? Please drop me a line if you have the time; there's nothing I love more than hearing your feedback. Thank you in advance!<strong>


	19. Epilogue: Freedom At Last

**Author's Note: Well, this is it. The end of the line. This is the ending I've had in mind ever since I began writing Chapter One of this story, and it came out almost exactly as I've imagined it, so I genuinely hope that you enjoy reading it. Of course, it's not the last installment; I've been toying with the idea of an optional ending for a while, and I've finally decided to write one that is on a whole different spectrum than this ending. But that's for later; this is now. And now, without further ado...**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><em><strong>Five years later...<strong>_

_"And the waitress is practicing politics a__s the businessman slowly gets stoned...y__es, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness_, _but it's better than drinkin' alone..."_

Reaching for the incessantly ringing phone, Hotch couldn't help but crack a smile as Emily's shower singing increased in volume.

"Hello?" he finally answered, striding from the bed to shut the doors adjoining the bedroom to the master bath.

"Mr. Hotchner?"

Hotch knew that voice anywhere. "Doctor Haynes," he greeted, his heart suddenly beating twice as fast. Meanwhile, a blissfully oblivious Emily continued belting out the lyrics to "Piano Man." "How are you?"

"I'm great, thank you for asking. _And_ I actually have some news for you. I would have much preferred to meet face to face, but an emergency has sprung up, and I have to leave town for a week or so. Is Emily there, by any chance?"

Hotch chided himself for being unable to determine the tone behind the oncologist's words. "She is," he swallowed thickly. "Let me get her."

"Please do," the younger man smiled. "The results of her last month's mammogram just came in. She's going to want to hear this."

Immediately, Hotch's face lit up.

_Oh my God._

"You mean…she's…"

Haynes nodded, despite the fact that no one could see him. "One hundred percent."

"Aaron, honey, who are you talking to?" Emily hummed, turning off the water and reaching for a thick white towel.

Hotch had tears in his eyes, his breath caught in the back of his throat as he put the phone on speaker. "You were saying, Doctor?" he asked shakily.

Haynes's smile grew, if possible, even wider. "Congratulations, Emily."

Emily was dead silent for one long minute, letting the meaning of the words sink in.

And then, she was in Hotch's tight, loving embrace, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

They were _free_. Free from the unquestionably burgeoning question, the unspeakable knowledge that had hung over their heads for far too long.

_Emily was finally free._

~.~.~

"Whoa, the Eiffel Tower is _huge_!"

Emily hugged Avery close. "It sure is. Over a thousand feet tall, if I remember correctly."

"Wow," the eleven year old breathed. "I mean…I've seen my fair share of pictures, but this…"

"This is amazing," Hotch finished, bringing his and Emily's linked hands to his lips.

"And look at all the people!" Jack exclaimed, pointing. It seemed as if all of France had come out to celebrate.

"When are they going to release the balloons?" Avery asked excitedly, her eyes glittering.

Emily chuckled. "Soon, sweetheart. Oh, and after that, there's this _really_ good café just down the street that we _have_ to visit, on Rue Sainte-Dominique. Jack, I have the feeling that you'll love it. I swear they have the world's best hot chocolate."

"Mmmm, that sounds good," Hotch whispered in her ear, kissing the lobe as she tossed him a gorgeous smile.

"It is. Amazing, really. They don't use a powdered mix; no, instead, they actually _melt_ a bar of chocolate, add some milk, fresh whipping cream, a stick of cinnamon…"

Avery groaned in delight. "Oh my gosh. Can we _please _go there now?"

"S'il vous plaît?" Jack chorused, shooting his parents a boyish grin.

"Look at you!" Emily exclaim proudly. "Speaking French. I'm impressed." She paused. "Mais non. We'll go _soon_," she repeated, sighing contentedly as she swung her and Hotch's linked arms back and forth. "Then afterwards, after the parade on the Champs-Élysées, we can stop by a boulangerie and buy some bread and cheese, and maybe some pastries, then have a picnic by the Seine…and maybe take a walk and visit some little boutiques," she said, winking at Avery. "That sound good?"

"That sounds _perfect_," Hotch answered, rubbing patterns on the back of her hand.

"Then tomorrow, can we visit Versailles?" Avery piped up, the Parisian sun teasing out hidden fires in her dark hair.

"We certainly can."

"And the Louvre?" Jack asked in turn, equally as excited.

"We have three weeks in France," Emily reminded in the affirmative, her eyes bright. "Whatever you all want to do, we'll do it."

Stopping amongst the mass of people crowding before the Eiffel Tower, Hotch held Emily gaze. "Thank you for this," he said sincerely, his voice low.

Emily's lips twitched into a half smile. "Why are you thanking me? God knows we all deserved a vacation."

Hotch nodded. "You've just…put a lot of thought and effort into making this - _everything_ - perfect."

"I guess that's what happens when you plan something for five years straight," Emily quipped, toying with the string of the balloon Hotch was holding.

"I guess so," he agreed softly. "I…" he sighed, "I'm so glad you're better, sweetheart."

Emily wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly as he buried his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. "Yeah. So am I."

They remained like that for a minute or two longer, lost in each other, before Avery suddenly cried out, breaking the spell only to introduce them to another.

"Look! Look, look, look! Oh, they're so _pretty_," the girl gushed, her face upturned toward the clear blue sky as she marveled at the sight of the blue, white, and red balloons being released.

"There's got to be _hundreds_ of them," Jack said in awe, beginning to count as many as he could.

Just like Emily had known he would.

Hotch suddenly smiled at his son, recounting a memory of his and Emily's, in front of their picture window back home, five years ago.

_"Have you ever been to Paris, Aaron?"_

_"No. I considered taking you there for our honeymoon, but I thought you'd enjoy Italy more."_

_"Hmmm. You'd like it. I've been thinking of taking Avery and Jack there for Bastille Day…France's National Day. I've wanted to for a while. Every year, on July fourteenth, _hundreds _of blue, white, and red balloons are released from crowds around the Eiffel Tower. It's incredible. And…and now I may never see Avery's face light up at the sight, or hear…Or laugh at Jack trying to count each and every one of them…"_

_"No, honey. You _will_."_

Memories like these never failed to make his heart hurt, but he was finally at the point where he didn't focus on the pain, but on the distance they'd come.

Emily was at that point, too.

"Hey," he murmured to her. "Remember, all those years back, when you said you'd never experience this?" Their gazes met once more. "Well, you're experiencing it now," he smiled tenderly. "How does it feel?"

Emily bit her bottom lip as she watched her darling children huddled close together, chattering away cheerily and peering up at the sky.

They were _happy_.

Overcome with emotion, Emily fused her lips to Hotch's. "It feels…it feels pretty damn great," she breathed.

And then, finally, the four of them released their balloons, following the paths of the pink, helium-filled spheres with their gazes as they rose through the tricolored others.

Emily smiled, _really_ smiled, as she pulled her family close. _"It feels pretty damn great."_

**THE END.**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Words cannot even begin to describe how wonderful a time I've had writing this story. I can only hope that you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have. And if you have, please do not hesitate to leave me a review! I would love to know what you think.<strong>

**But remember...this story isn't complete yet! Please stay tuned for the optional ending.**


	20. Alternate Epilogue: The Curtain Falls

**Author's Note: Again, to those of you who have stuck with me throughout this roller-coaster ride, I cannot thank you enough. You guys are the best, and a lot of this could not have been done without your support and feedback.**

**WARNING: This chapter/alternate epilogue will be _very_ sad, dark, and rife with emotion. I personally felt obligated to write this part of the story because I felt that, given the circumstances, it definitely could have happened. But do not read it if you're not prepared to cry, because I cried a hell of a lot while writing it, and that says a lot. I hold this installment very near and dear to my heart, but I promise you, if you don't read it, I won't be offended.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><em><strong>Three years later...<strong>_

He knew what had happened from the moment he saw her face.

A gasp was torn from the back of her throat.

The phone fell from her rapidly loosening grasp, clattering loudly on the smooth wooden floor.

He ran over to her to grab her hand and hold her tight. But he was too late.

She sank to the floor and broke down.

They cried.

~.~.~

One word. Just one word could destroy the carefully reformed resolve of a human being. One word, possibly worse than the word 'cancer' itself.

Relapse.

It was even worse now. The cancer had spread from her breast and lymph nodes, to her liver, to her pancreas, to her lungs…

And now, three years later, Emily's time had run out.

"I hate hospitals," she mumbled, seeking Hotch's gaze with a tired one of her own.

Struggling to keep his composition, Hotch ran a hand over her pallid cheek. "You're not in a hospital, sweetheart," he responded quietly, his heart breaking with every second that passed.

"I know," she sighed, "but I might as well be at one." She weakly motioned around the room. "You just had to go on and bring the hospital _here_, with all the equipment, and a doctor, and a nurse, and…mmm…" Emily took in a shuddery breath. "You evil, evil man," she quipped, trying for a smile.

Hotch tried returning her smile, but couldn't, not when she was like this. Not when he could do nothing to assuage her pain. He hated it; the feeling of uselessness and powerlessness, the feeling of terror that filled every single vein in his body as he saw her struggle for breath. He never thought he'd have to see the day where his one true love was taken from him…but here they were.

Avery and Jack, too, were at the foot of the bed, the former with tears streaming down her sweet, innocent face, the latter shaking with relentless sobs. They hadn't spoken a word. After all, what could they say, other than 'I love you'?

Hotch had just lain beside Emily on the bed when she mustered up every ounce of strength left in her body and tugged the IV out of her arm. His eyes went wide. _"Emily!"_

"I want to be able to think clearly," she said in explanation, almost…_nonchalantly_. She shivered soon after; not because of the trickle of blood running down her arm in result, but because of the increase in volume of Avery's cries. "I can't on morphine; you know that."

And he did. Deep down inside, he knew exactly what she was talking about. They had both had their fair share of near-death experiences. They had both been in the emergency rooms too many times to count.

But this…this was different.

"I just don't want you to have to endure the pain," Hotch choked out, immediately taking note of the expression on her face and reaching over to find something to staunch the bleeding.

Emily reached for his hand and grasped it, shaking her head in dismissal. "At least I _can_ feel it, right? It makes me feel alive. I need that now," she argued.

His breath was coming out in strangled intervals now. "But…"

"Aaron? Can you tell me a story?"

Her question was so unexpected that at first, he didn't know if he'd heard her correctly. "A…a story?"

"Mm-hmm. Something that'll make me happy." Emily closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. "I want to be happy."

How could he turn her down?

"A story. Hmmmm." Hotch maneuvered so that she could lie against his chest. "Well...once upon a time, there was a beautiful woman; the most beautiful woman in the world." He swallowed thickly, taking in a heaving breath soon afterward. "She had just gotten back from college, and was staying at home for the summer. One day, a man came along and saw her, curled up on a couch in her living room, reading a thick, leather-bound book. Now, this man worked for the woman's mother, and even though their lives seemed worlds apart at the time, just one glance at the woman had him falling in love.

"He never forgot her smile, even after ten years of being far away from her. It was after said decade that he saw her again. This time, it was she at his door, demanding a chance to prove to the man how good an agent she was, and how she would be the perfect fit in his team. He was doubtful at first; not of her abilities, but of his ability to work objectively alongside a woman he had once had feelings for. But, of course, he said yes. She was too beautiful for him to decline," he said, caressing the side of her face with shaky fingers. "And she proved to be the best agent he had ever come across.

"However perfect the woman was, this man was not. He was broken, flawed, emotionally jaded. He had a son; a handsome, beautiful son who brought him joy at the end of each day, no matter how awful the things he'd seen that day were. But one such day, because of his job, his wife was taken away from him. The man didn't know if he'd ever be the same. People were reluctant to approach him during this time; they wanted to comfort him, but no one knew what to say.

"Except for that one woman. She was the one who helped him out of that dark place, and brought him into a new world of love, and happiness, and beauty. This woman…she was exceptional. Not only was she stunning on the outside - and she was, with her dark hair, dark eyes, pale complexion, and heart-stopping smile - but she was the kindest soul he had ever met. She had a dry sense of humor that never failed to make him laugh when he needed it most. And most of all, she understood him, and accepted him, with all his flaws, too."

Hotch's voice shook as Emily burrowed her face further into the crook of his neck. "It was then that his once boyish-crush turned into what he learned was love. He finally worked up the courage to take her to dinner, and it was then that he knew she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Months later, he gave her a ring; months later, he asked her to marry him. And she said _yes_. She didn't know it then, but that moment was the most glorious moment of his life. She would proceed to make him the happiest man in the world. She helped him raise his son with effortless ease and care. She blessed him with a beautiful baby girl. She stood by his side through the bad times, and the good ones. And she loved him, just as he loved her." Hotch didn't realize he was crying until Emily reached out with a trembling hand to dry his tears. "And they lived happily ever after."

Emily pressed her lips to his cheek. "That's not how our story ends," she whispered sadly, yearning for the chance to make it so.

"I never said it was our story," Hotch countered, wishing for a way to make everything better. But he couldn't.

And God, it hurt so much.

The room was cloaked in a heavy silence then, the only sound the sporadic sobs of the children and the ragged breathing of Emily. No one spoke for the longest of minutes, until...

"Jack," Emily murmured wearily. "Avery…come closer." The two teary children did just that, moving over to cling desperately to their mother.

Emily looked to Jack first. "Sweetheart," she whispered, cupping his dampened cheek. "Do you have any idea how proud of you I am? You're the smartest boy in your grade, the varsity soccer goalie, the…the most handsome young man in the entire _world_."

"Mom," the teenager whimpered.

"Shhhh…" She shook her head. "When I was younger, I'd always imagined I'd have a daughter. Never once did I expect to be blessed with the most perfect son," she managed, furiously wiping at her eyes. "I hate that I'm hurting you right now," she flat-out moaned. "Ever since you were a four year old, I'd always known that I never wanted to leave your side; I always dreamed of being here for you, seeing you grow up and graduate and become a successful young man. After your mother died, I…I always wanted to _protect _you from anything that could come your way. The day you accepted me into your life was one of the – if not the most – happiest days of my life. I hoped that you'd know I wasn't trying to take your birth mother's place…"

"…but you didn't. You made sure I never forgot her," Jack cried. "And that means so much more than anything in the world."

Emily muffled her sobs into his chest as she held him close. "God, Jack. I love you _so _much," she ground out.

Jack's face contorted into a visage of sheer pain. "I love you more," he whispered. "Mom…"

"I never wanted to do this to you. I never wanted you to have to go through any other loss, but…but here I am."

"Stop," Jack protested. "This is _not_ your fault," he told her adamantly.

"I'm sorry," she said nonetheless. "If…if I could just ask you one thing?" she said almost inaudibly, suddenly appearing so starkly weak that it shook Hotch to his core.

"Anything," Jack swore, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers.

Her hand came to cover his heart. "Don't forget me," she begged.

Jack's eyes fell closed at her near-silent entreaty. "How could I?" he returned, gasping for air between sobs. "After everything you've done for me…for Dad…"

"Promise me you'll keep me here." She patted his heart. "Please, Jack."

The boy took her hand in a tight grip. "I promise."

Emily just gazed at him for the longest of minutes, burning his sweet face into her memory before pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. "You're the best son I could ever have asked for, Jack. You've treated me so well. You've made me feel worthy of love and affection…"

"So have you, Mom." He returned her kiss. "So have you."

Emily could have prolonged their conversation for hours on end…but sadly, she knew she didn't have that time. Her hand still clutching Jack's almost desperately, Emily beckoned Avery as close as possible, her lips quivering with the thought of leaving her sweet daughter behind.

"Mommy," the nine year old gasped, biting her lip hard as she wrapped her arms around her mother's waist.

"Hi, baby," Emily trembled, holding the young girl to her as tightly as possible. "Don't cry," she crooned weakly, rocking Avery back and forth just as she had done when Avery had just been born. "Don't cry…you're too beautiful to cry."

"No, Mom…" Avery keened, clutching the bed sheets in clenched fists.

"Have I ever told you that even after thirteen hours of labor, I immediately felt whole the moment I laid eyes on you? It was as if I'd just been waiting for you to come along and complete me. You were the most precious sight…with a little mess of dark hair, my eyes, my lips, your father's nose and ears…and the most gorgeous little dimples. Whenever you smiled, my heart was immediately filled with joy." She paused, sniffling, then rested her forehead against Avery's. "It was hard for me; getting pregnant," she eventually explained. "I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to. But then, one day…you came along. Avery, you were a miracle. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Every single day, you make me proud to be your mother, proud to have such a talented, intelligent, beautiful daughter. Of course, I'd…I'd hoped to see you grow into an independent young lady, to see you get married and have children of your own. But…now I…I won't…"

Avery shook her head violently, fat tears rolling down her reddened cheeks. "I don't want you to die," she practically screamed.

Emily's sobs only increased in volume. "I don't want to die either," she said quietly. "But I can't dwell on that right now, sweetheart. Not when there's so much more to tell you."

"But Mom…" the girl whimpered desperately.

Emily brought her lips to Avery's crown. "Don't. I hate that this – that _I_ – am hurting you right now," she said, repeating what she had previously told Jack. "I never wanted you to be subject to something like this; if I had it my way, I'd shelter you until you were much, much older. Only…you'll always be my precious baby girl, no matter what age you are. And that's what I want you to remember. I don't want you to think of me like this; think of the better days, when we laid outside in the snow catching snowflakes on our tongues, or when we went on vacation to Hawaii and we went shell searching together on the warm, white-sand beaches. Remember _those_ times, Avery. And above all, remember how much I love you. I will _always_ love you, baby," Emily cried, unable to say anything else for fear of surely going insane.

"I love you, too," Avery murmured into the crook of Emily's neck. "So much, Mommy. I love you so much."

One hand on her cheek, and the other now on Jack's, Emily looked at them both carefully. "No one, save for your father, can love you as much I love you both. You've shaped me into the woman I had always hoped to be; a mother, with the two most brilliant, perfect children in the world. Thank you…_so much_…for the moments we've shared; the bad and the good. Jack, look out for your sister for me." The boy nodded somberly. "And both of you…" she tried to crack a smile, "look out for your father for me. Make sure to give him a hug and kiss each day for me." She hadn't wanted to, because she knew it would break down her last wall of resolve, but her gaze was eventually drawn to that of Hotch.

The shattered look on his face felt like a blow to her chest, momentarily preventing her from taking in any air.

After an endless number of tearful hugs and kisses, Emily knew that she had to stop if she wanted a lost minute with Hotch. "Now go, both of you," she reluctantly dismissed. "I don't want you to see me like this any longer," she whispered, her lips barely moving.

They both seemed about to protest, but with one final, lingering, painfully affectionate glance, they stumbled out of the door, holding onto each other for any semblance of strength.

The room was plunged into silence.

"Well…" The lovers' gazes met. "I guess this is it."

Hotch curled closer to her. "I wish it wasn't," he whispered against her neck, his warm tears hitting her skin.

Emily maneuvered so that she could see him fully. "You promised me you wouldn't cry," she gasped, kissing away his tears with only some difficulty.

At that, he only cried harder, burying his face into her chest like a little boy would do. "I love you so fucking much," he moaned, gripping her arms tightly. "What will I do without you?" he asked, not wanting to think about life without Emily. Emily, who had been with him in the good times, and the bad. Emily, who he loved with all his heart, and who loved him with an equal, irrevocable passion.

Emily, his best friend.

"You'll live," she answered simply, hugging him close and wishing she never had to let go. "You'll live, and you'll love our children with every fiber of your being."

"Damn it, Emily…" he sobbed. "I can't do this without you. I can't do anything without you."

"You know that's not true," she chided gently, her tears wetting and staining his shirt. A whole minute passed before she asked, "You remember your promise to me, three years ago?"

Of course he did. How could he forget?

_"If I die, I want to do it in your arms. I want you to be the last person I see before I close my eyes that final time. I want the last thing I feel to be your lips against mine, your arms around me, keeping me safe. And I don't want you to cry. I want you to smile. For me. Can you do that, Aaron?"_

"I remember," he croaked. "Emily…"

He was silenced by the feel of her lips against his, moving together in a dance so tender and affectionate that it tore them both to pieces, reducing them even farther into tears. They both tasted of salt but neither cared; all they cared about was each other, and proving their _undying_ love, and the kiss…

Emily was the one to break it, pulling back to take in a wheezing breath, but before she could process what was happening, Hotch's lips were back on hers. This time, the kiss wasn't so much coaxing or slow as it was desperate, and needy, and yearning.

And passionate.

And sad.

When black stars began flooding her vision, Emily reluctantly stole away, her lips tingling with the feel of him. He tasted just as she'd always remember; a unique mixture of citrus and spice coupled with_Aaron_.

Hotch cupped her face in his hands, a tear of his hitting her cheek as he rested his forehead against hers. His heart wrenched as she suddenly winced. "Emily, I wish you would let me put the IV back in," he said, the plea clear in the intonation of his voice.

"But I can _see_ you, Aaron," she repeated. "And I…_oh_…" He bit his lip hard as he watched her struggle for breath. She just shook her head at the expression she saw written in his features. "I love you so much, Aaron. So much more than anything in the world. Every single day we've been together, you've made me realize how truly lucky I am," she wheezed, gasping for air now. "You gave me Jack. You blessed me with Avery. You've given me everything I have ever wanted in life, in a marriage, in love." She weakly brought a hand up to tangle in his hair, memorizing how soft, how _perfect_ the thick strands felt under her fingers. "You've completed me," she finally sighed, managing, with some difficulty, to take off both her engagement and wedding rings.

Immediately, Hotch let out a roar. _"No!"_ he exclaimed, stopping her. "Don't you _ever_ take them off!" he cried. "They are _yours_, and yours _only, _do you understand me? I could never love anyone the way I love you, Emily," he revealed whole-heartedly. "_You_ are my heart. _You_ complete me. _You_ have blessed me, made me the luckiest man to walk the earth. You've restored my faith in the world, and my faith in myself. You helped me through the worst times of my life." He squeezed her hand tightly. "Those rings are _yours_," he repeated, quieter this time, but just as emotionally.

"But I want Avery to have them," she protested. Deep down inside, however, she knew that once he had his mind set on something…nothing could sway him.

It was one of the many things that had caused her to fall in love with him, all those years ago.

"Please, Emily," he shivered, "please. Don't take them off."

Tears shining in her eyes, she allowed him to put the two silver and gold bands back on her slender finger. "I won't have many opportunities to take them off after this," she pointed out, smiling slightly in a vain attempt to lift his spirits.

Hotch's heart fell at her simple statement. "No…" he murmured, closing his eyes. _This can't be happening_, he kept repeating, the melancholy mantra continuing despite everything else at the forefront of his mind. _This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening._

_She can't be dying._

But she was.

Her sweet, near-silent voice drew him out of his thoughts. "Aaron?"

"Yes, my love?" he whispered, his gaze seeking hers.

"Do you think I could…have one…more kiss?"

Despite the nature of the situation they were in, Hotch found himself managing to give her a smile. "How about two more?"

Emily let her lips curve at the corners, her fingers playing along the smooth skin of his cheeks. "I'll take that. Gladly."

Leaning down to capture her lips with his once more, Hotch tried his hardest to communicate in just one embrace just how much Emily meant to him. Most would consider it a vain task, trying to encompass twelve beautiful years of love and friendship in only one kiss. But based on Emily's breathy response, he had succeeded.

A beat of silence passed. Then…

"Aaron? My entire body is numb."

Hotch's eyes fell closed. "I wish I could do something to help you. I wish you didn't have to suffer. You don't deserve this," he rambled, tears openly streaming down his face.

"I'm not suffering," Emily said for the final time, although her breathing was coming in short pants now. "For the first time in years, my mind is free. I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. Except…except just one more day to be with you."

"Emily…"

"And you are helping me. Just being here, by my side, you've kept me strong. Sometimes being the winner of a fight means knowing when to let go, and stop fighting. That's now," she said. Her voice was but a whisper now. "You've helped me _live_, Aaron. You've helped me win."

"I love you," he breathed against her skin.

"I love you, too," she replied simply.

"No," he sighed. "I haven't said it enough. Emily, I _really_ love you. I'd never even come close to knowing the true meaning of love until I met you. You changed me into a better person. I haven't said it enough," he repeated regretfully.

"You have," she assured. "You've shown me. Every second of our relationship, you've shown me. I…" Emily suddenly didn't know how to do this, suddenly didn't know what to say.

Her time had come.

"Aaron…I'm ready." Her body was suddenly wracked with intense waves of pain. She gripped his hand tightly, never more thankful for his timeless support.

Never before had three simple words had such a strong effect on him. But Hotch felt all the oxygen whoosh out of his lungs at her statement. His heart contracted painfully, his head began to spin, his vision began to blur with yet another onslaught of tears…

"Tell…tell Jack and Avery that I'll never stop loving them," she pleaded finally. "Tell my father that he blessed me with the best possible foundation in life, and that the days I spent in his office, listening to his stories, were the best moments of my childhood. I couldn't have asked for a better role model growing up. And tell…tell my mother…that I forgive her for everything. I want her to be free of any guilt she may have. Tell her to remember the good times." Emily practically doubled over as white-hot pain rocketed through her body. "I didn't want them to be here to see me like this, but tell them…_oh…_tell my mom and my dad that I love them. So much."

"I will," Hotch vowed, smoothing his thumbs over the skin of her hands. It was then that her eyes closed in pain.

She just couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey," he whispered softly, kissing her lips to wake his sleeping beauty. "Open your eyes, beautiful. Emmy…"

Emily mustered up her last bit of strength to look at her husband. His age-old nickname for her falling from his lips seemed to be the last thing she could take. But suddenly, she remembered the last part of their promise, three years previous.

"I want the last thing I see to be your smile, Aaron," she reminded, her words almost unintelligible because of how raspy her voice had become.

And even though he felt everything but happy at the moment, Hotch knew he couldn't rob her of her dying wish. It took all the strength and composure he had, but finally, he managed one single, handsome smile for his wife.

Her shaking fingers rose to outline his lips, then cup his face in her palm. One single tear slid down her cheek as she took him in for the final time.

Slowly, her hand on his cheek dropped in an arc to the surface of the bed.

Slowly, the hand that had been clutching his began to loosen.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered closed.

"_No._

_Emily. Look at me._

_Sweetheart…Emily…_

…_Emily?"_

"No," Hotch moaned loudly, trying in vain to block out the sound of the machine as Emily flatlined. He didn't even notice as Doctor Haynes, flanked by two nurses, entered the room. "No, no, no, no, no…"

"Mr. Hotchner," the oncologist said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tears of his own were shining in his eyes…for Emily had truly been special. "Mr. Hotchner, please move aside."

But Hotch only clutched Emily's lifeless body tighter to his, and sobbed against her chest. "_No! __Don't take her away from me," _he cried, her skin still wonderfully warm under his hands.

She could simply be _sleeping._

"Sir…"

Hotch shook his head violently. "No, _Emily…_"

Sadly, Haynes glanced at the nurse nearest to him, running a hand over his face. "Time of death?" he mouthed, shaking as the background of Hotch's sobs only increased in volume.

The nurse couldn't meet his gaze. "Eleven-fifteen pm," she answered meekly, the image of the broken down, dark-haired man holding his wife to him forever ingrained in her memory.

Eleven-fifteen pm.

Amidst all the heart ache, Hotch was somehow able to remember what Emily had told him, all those years ago.

"_Every three minutes, a woman in the United States is diagnosed with breast cancer."_

Every three minutes.

At eleven-eighteen, who would be next?

**THE END.**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Words cannot describe how wonderful a time I've had writing this story, and I can only hope that you've enjoyed reading it. Thank you sincerely for taking the time to do so. If you can, please leave me a review, even if you haven't before. Reviewer #220 will get a oneshot written for the prompt of their choice! Signed or anonymous, short or long, your reviews mean the world to me, and I treasure them like the finest gold.<strong>


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